The Mark
by Nargled
Summary: The Malfoys are finally on trial. What could possibly go wrong?
1. The Mark part one

The Mark

"Mr. Potter," "Mr. Potter," "Mr. Potter," came from the horde of reporters waiting at the entryway into he atrium. Harry, Hermione, and Ron were jostled despite the efforts of the Aurors guiding them out to the floos. After all these weeks, they no longer needed a daily escort, but today was the verdict in Narcissa Malfoy's trial, and the press was back in droves.

One reporter outshouted the rest. "What do you think of Mrs. Malfoy being found innocent?"

Harry tried to be as neutral as he could. He was uncomfortable with everyone asking his opinion on everything, from business deals to governmental policy to naming their children. Narcissa Malfoy, not having a mark, and with testimony from Harry Potter that she lied to Tom Riddle, was eventually found innocent in a close vote.

"It's my duty to tell the truth, not decide her innocence or guilt. If the Wizengamot feels that, according to our laws, Ms. Malfoy helping fake my death in order to gain access to Hogwarts to see her son outweighs all the evil that she had done up until that point, including my own capture and kidnapping, and the torture of Ms. Granger, then I must be satisfied."

The press was not happy with his answer, and clamoured for more, but Harry just started towards the floos, the Aurors trying to open a path through. The reporters shifted to Hermione.

Hermione's answer was as polite as she could make it. "Being raised in the non-magical world, it's taking me some time to adjust to the … um, unique and rather quaint judicial system we have." The fact that half those gathered around looked confused or insulted and the other half was nodding their heads was not lost on her.

A few more Aurors were able to join them and with some not so gentle prodding got them to the floo where they gratefully left in a green 'whoosh.'

They stepped out of the floo at Grimmauld Place and dusted off the soot.

"Oi," said Ron. "I thought we were done with all that."

"Well, it _is_ the Malfoys," said Hermione. "I assume it'll be he same with Lucius and maybe with Draco too."

"Git," said Ron. "It'll be nice when they're all in prison and we can get on with our lives."

"Humph," said Harry, hanging up his dress robes. "I'll believe it when I see it."

"I'm sure things will settle down eventually, Harry," said Hermione.

"She's right, you'll see," said Ron. He sniffed the air. "Something smells good, let's see what Kreacher made for dinner. That'll take your mind off."

"Humph."

"C'mon, sourpuss."

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The trial of the Malfoys was noted to be the largest non-sporting broadcast event in Magical Britain. WWN carried the entire trial live, allowed and even encouraged by the new government's transparency policy. Thousands of people packed Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley to hear the broadcast instead of listening at home just to be able to say that 'they were there.'

The other Death Eaters were tried first, and not surprisingly all found guilty. Preliminary sentences were handed out, but given the unprecedented nature of the scope and severity of the crimes, final sentencing was held until all the trials were over. New atrocities kept popping up at each trial, and the list of questions to ask those already tried and convicted was on its third scroll.

The other associated hangers-on; snatchers, thugs, mercenaries, and the like were processed quickly and less formally through hearings in front of panels of three Wizengamot members. Hefty fines and limited stays in Azkaban, to be followed by deportation for those not Britain-born, were commonly handed out. The exception were any werewolves that fought on Voldemort's side, they were pushed through the Veil within the first week.

Harry and his friends, soon labeled the 'Hogwarts' contingent' by the press, occupied the middle of the public gallery, Harry, Hermione, Ginny, Ron, Neville, and Luna front row and centre, surrounded by the surviving DA and many other students. They sat silently through the entire set of proceedings, neither cheering nor booing, nor responding to comments obviously cast in their direction by both the prosecution and the defence. Not everyone could attend every day, but they all made the effort. Their presence added a quiet and substantial weight to the events.

Lucius Malfoy's guilt, being the highest ranking Death Eater still alive, was simply assumed from the outset. His advocate, one Reuben Parker, obviously knew the likely outcome and was just trying to limit the damage and the scope of questioning.

Lucius was given veritaserum and the prosecutor Isaac Mitchell began the questioning from when he first met 'The Dark Lord'. As there never was a trial for his actions of the 'first war', merely a hearing at which he was quickly exonerated, no double jeopardy existed, and the inquiry had been going on for nearly a week. It generated several more warrants, and huge additions to the scroll of questions to ask those already tried. When Lucius told of what he was required to do, and very willingly did, by Voldemort to get the dark mark, his fate was sealed. They could have stopped the trial right then, but a clear accounting of all events was one of the goals of the new Ministry. It would go on.

It was on the second Friday of questioning, now regarding his bribes to Ministry and Wizengamot members, when Hermione suddenly sat straighter with a small frown on her face. She leaned over to Neville and Luna. Neville's grandmother being a Wizengamot member and Luna's experience with the Quibbler made them her primary sources of information.

"Who's McPherson?" she asked, naming the person Lucius just cited as a receiver of bribes. She scanned the Wizengamot, but no one was attempting to flee, nor were the Aurors heading up into the rows of seats to arrest anyone.

"Death Eater, already convicted," answered Neville.

"And Peters?"

"Pureblood sympathiser, also already convicted," said Luna.

"Pinkerton?"

"Killed at Hogwarts."

And so it went. Every time the prosecution asked about another name, they were either dead or already in jail. Hermione started searching the pockets and sleeves of her robes. "I need some parchment and a quill," she muttered.

Luna put a hand on her arm. "Shhhh. It's all right, Hermione. I'm sure you can ask for a copy of the court transcripts."

With that Hermione settled down, occasionally asking Luna and Neville about the names given. After the session, Hermione approached the court recorder and asked for a copy of the day's transcripts. The recorder was about to refuse, then paused. Normally they weren't released until the conclusion of the trial, but when an Order of Merlin, First Class holder and Heroine of the Magical World asked for something that was public knowledge anyway…. With a wave and tap of his wand he gave her a copy of the transcripts from the whole trial to date. It was quite a thick scroll.

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That night, Hermione sequestered herself in the library at Grimmauld place with the scroll and was studying it intently. At midnight Harry brought her some tea and a sandwich. Hermione was curled up in a large chair, many of the older and darker books from the library around her.

"Hermione?" He tapped her shoulder. "Hermione?"

"Huh?" She looked up, her eyes taking a second to focus.

"I thought you might be hungry." 

She finally noticed the sandwich and tea. "Oh, thanks, Harry. Just put it on the side table there," she said, turning back to the scroll.

Harry just shook his head. "Don't stay up too late," he said, knowing that she had already tuned him out and would be up until she was finished with whatever it was she was researching. She didn't notice him leave.

Over the weekend, Hermione remained in the library. Having finished the scroll of the trial transcripts, she had moved on to _The Pureblood Directory_ , and from there to some of the darker volumes the Blacks had collected. When questioned, she said she 'just had an idea,' and was researching it. She wouldn't be more specific.

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Monday morning Harry woke early, showered, and dressed as usual, preparing for another long day of sitting through Lucius' ongoing trial. He tromped down the stairs to the kitchen. The smell of fresh bread hit him as he opened the door. Kreacher lit the cooker under the tea kettle as Harry entered.

"Good morning, Kreacher," he said, sitting down at the table. Kreacher was the only other person in the kitchen.

"Good morning, Master Harry. What would you like today?"

"Eggs on toast and some tea, please. Ron and Hermione still asleep?" They shared the second floor, supposedly in separate rooms, Harry had taken Sirius' room on the third. His mind quickly veered away from any more thoughts along those lines.

"Mr. Weasley is not up as yet, I shall be assisting him momentarily. Mistress Hermione has already eaten and is back upstairs."

Harry sighed. "The library again?"

Kreacher looked up at the ceiling for a moment. "No, Master Harry, she is studying the Black Family tapestry."

Harry raised his eyebrows at that.

"I do not know why, Master Harry. She had many questions about the history of the Black Family this morning." He brought over a plate. "Eggs mostly cooked, toast quite well done, as you like them."

"Thanks, Kreacher." Hearing the clinking of the water pitcher in Kreacher's hands, he asked, "Again?"

"He has been informed of the rules." Kreacher popped out.

Moments later there was a yell, a thump, and a "Bloody deranged lunatic house elf!"

Kreacher popped back into the kitchen with the now empty pitcher.

"You enjoy that way too much, Kreacher," said Harry.

A rather evil grin flashed across Kreacher's face. "As you say, Master Harry," he said, before turning to the cooker.

Moments later an angry and soaking wet Ron stomped into the kitchen. "Harry! You have to do something about Kreacher! He's a menace!"

"Good morning to you too, Ron. Forget that you're a wizard again?" asked Harry, absently waving his wand and drying Ron off.

"Good morning, Mr. Weasley," said Kreacher, sliding a large plate of toast, eggs, bacon, and sausage, a large mug of tea, and a glass of pumpkin juice into Ron's place, and tea for Harry.

Ron plunked himself down and began eating. "So?"

"So, what?"

"You gonna to do something about Kreacher?"

"Oh, right. Thanks for breakfast, Kreacher, it was delicious. You made the bread for the toast, I presume?"

"Yes, Master Harry. Whole wheat with milk and honey."

"Well, it's perfect."

"Thank you, Master Harry," said Kreacher, gathering up Harry's dirty dishes.

"That's it?" asked Ron.

"It's good bread, and you seem to agree as your toast is already all gone."

"I mean about the ice water bath this morning! Again!"

"Well, you know the rules, and I already dried you off. Just get up earlier and it won't be a problem."

"Har-ry!"

"Oh, nut up Ron. It's just water." He got up to go with the remainder of his tea.

"So how do you get up on time every day?"

"I hear that blasted alarm clock every morning before you shut it off again and go back to sleep." He didn't mention that he was usually wide awake by then. His nightmares were much better, but the very active dreams of early morning continued to wake him daily. Hermione had gotten Ron a wind up alarm clock with a rather obnoxious set of bells. They had cancelled the silencing charms on their rooms several weeks back, and Harry did indeed hear it every morning, even from his room a floor up. He mentally stomped down the spike of jealousy that rose up once again. They were happy, so he had to be happy for them.

"Now hurry up, we have to leave soon," Harry said, backing out through the kitchen door.

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Harry found Hermione still staring at the Black Family tree.

"Hey."

"Hey, Harry."

"Still researching?"

"Yeah."

"What'd you learn?"

"I'm not sure."

"Humph."

"I need more information, Harry. I might just be paranoid, but…."

"For some of us, they really are all out to get us."

Hermione snorted. "Something like that." She turned to face him. "Are you officially the Head of the House of Black? With the Ministry and Gringott's and all?"

"Um, the will was processed, and I got the house, the vaults, the gold and everything.…"

"But are you Head of House?"

"I dunno. Never came up specifically."

"You need to check, and soon. I won't be at the trial today, I need to stop at the Hall of Records, and see if I can get an Unspeakable to talk with me."

"That shouldn't be hard. Likely they'll try to recruit you."

Hermione snorted again.

"Why the urgency?"

"Like I said, I might just be paranoid, but there seem to be rules, and being muggle born, or muggle raised," she waved a hand at him, "we don't know what they are. But Friday at the trial I started thinking—"

Harry raised his hands. "Say no more. Just tell me what to do."

Hermione tried scowling at him, but couldn't pull it off. "Git. Just go to the trial this morning, but meet me outside the courtroom at the noon break. And when they first bring Lucius into the courtroom, observe him carefully. See what he's like before they give him the veritaserum."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "O—kay. What am I looking for, exactly?"

"You're not _looking for_ anything, you're observing. Just see what he's like, then I'll ask you later about it."

"Right. Watch, er observe Lucius, meet at noon."

They flooed to the main entry hall of the Ministry, Ron still adjusting his robes and hair. Hermione dashed off without even saying goodbye, leaving them to follow the growing stream of people to Courtroom Ten.

Ron raised his eyebrows in question.

"She noticed something about the trial and needs to research it." 

"That brain of hers never slows down, does it?"

"Thank Merlin for that."

"Heh. True."

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Ron and Harry took their seats in the front row of 'their' section, quietly greeting the others already there or still filtering in. Soon the whole contingent was there, assuming their 'court face.' They were there not for themselves, but for all those that couldn't be. Many had spent nearly a year at Hogwarts under the rule of Snape and the Carrows, some had fought Death Eaters personally, a few had spent months in Azkaban or 'camps' as 'thieves of magic;' each personally had lost a friend or loved one. Sitting through weeks of rather boring court was nothing in comparison.

Harry focused on the court floor. Soon it opened and Lucius rose, already chained to the accused's chair. Harry _observed_ him carefully. It was rather disappointing actually. Harry thought back to the many others he had seen come up through the floor. Cursing, threatening, screaming, crying, bargaining, or just collapsing as far as the chains would allow were all common, but Lucius did none of that. He sat calmly, even a touch proudly, looking straight ahead, waiting for the session to begin. As far as he could remember Lucius was like this every day.

The Chief Warlock, Minister Shacklebolt, Chief Prosecutor Mitchell, and Advocate Parker entered and the session began. Lucius was given the three drops of veritaserum and the questioning began again. It was hard to tell any difference in his behaviour. He answered the questions easily and completely, damning himself further with every reply. Harry soon tuned it out. They were still dealing with issues years before the final battle, it might take weeks to finish the questioning. He wondered why Hermione wanted a report on Lucius basically doing nothing.

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At the noon break Harry flowed with the crowd out the gallery doors towards the cafeteria. He wondered how he was going to meet Hermione among all the people milling around. She solved that problem by grabbing his sleeve and pulling him up against the wall where she had been waiting.

"So?" she asked without preamble.

"He didn't do anything. No talking, no cursing, no pleading. Not even a glare or a sneer. He looked calm."

Hermione looked Harry in the eyes. "Thought so. Why might he be calm, Harry?"

"Um…. He's on a calming draught?"

"Huh, didn't think of that one. I don't think he's allowed, but I'll have to check. But no, Harry, that's not what I'm worried about."

"I dunno, then."

"I need you to think on it, Harry."

"Hermione, what's going on?"

"I'm still not sure anything is going on, like I said I might just be paranoid. C'mon, I need to find Neville."

"Neville? What's he got to do with whatever is or isn't happening?"

"Just c'mon, Harry."

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They found Neville in the crowded cafeteria, sitting with Luna, Hannah and several other DA members.

"Neville, can I ask a favour?"

"Sure, Hermione, anything."

"I need to talk with your Grandmother at length about the Wizengamot and the Ministry. I don't know how such things are arranged in the old families…."

Neville held up his hand. "No worries, Hermione. The Longbottoms aren't all stuffy like that. And for you she'd do just about anything. As far as arranging, let's go ask. Ladies, if you'll excuse me?"

"Sure, Neville."

"See you, Neville."

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Neville led Harry and Hermione out of the cafeteria and around the corner. An ornate set of double doors was at the end of the short hallway. Neville ushered them through the doors into a marbled foyer lined with racks and racks of outer robes and hats, and through that into a rather posh room of low tables and comfortable chairs. Harry thought it looked like a private club. He recognised the robes and some of the faces as Wizengamot members.

Neville stopped in the entryway and was looking around for his Gran. Hermione tugged at his sleeve. "Neville, are we allowed in here?"

Neville kept scanning the room. "Hermione, I'm the Longbottom Heir, Harry's the last Potter and now the last Black, and all three of us are Order of Merlin First Class holders. Technically we 'outrank' half the people in here. There she is."

Hermione looked at Harry, who just shrugged his shoulders. "Rules?"

"Rules."

Neville led them to a back corner, where his Grandmother was seated with a cup of tea, quietly talking with another Wizengamot member. They stood a polite distance away until there was a break in the conversation and Augusta waved them forward. She stood to great them.

"Neville, Mr. Potter, Ms. Granger, a pleasure to see you. This is Harold Tweddle, a fellow member of the Wizengamot. Harold, my grandson Neville, Harry Potter, and Hermione Granger."

Mr. Tweddle shook their hands enthusiastically. "It's a pleasure to meet all three of you. We can't thank you enough for all that you've done."

"Yes, sir. Thank you sir." Harry had long since found a short, polite, and bland reply cut down on the praise everyone thought needed to be heaped upon him. The more he protested the more they kept going. Hermione and Neville followed his lead. Neville stepped in before Mr. Tweddle start up again.

"Gran, Hermione has a favour to ask, if that's all right?"

"Of course, Neville. Why don't you all sit down."

Mr. Tweddle excused himself with another effusive thanks and handshake. They sat around the low table, and a new teapot and three teacups appeared. Hermione's eyes narrowed at that, but she said nothing.

"Now then Ms. Granger, what can I do for you?" asked Mrs. Longbottom.

"Well, I'm sure you've noticed we've been attending all the trials." Augusta nodded. "Now that the novelty of attending has worn off, and as Lucius' trial has drug on, I started wondering about the Wizengamot itself. I mean, I really haven't thought much about them before but they seem really important in magical society. We haven't learned anything about them in school, and I wondered if you could sit with me in session later this week and explain how things worked, and I was hoping I could come over Saturday and ask some more questions about the Wizengamot and the Ministry? Neville says you would know a lot about them."

Harry was used to Hermione's occasional bursts of enthusiasm, but the gushing quality to her voice was a new thing. He raised his eyebrows at her. She just smiled minutely and put her hand on his arm. He kept quiet.

Augusta smiled. "Of course dear, I'd be delighted to. It's refreshing to see someone of your age take an interest in our government. And to be frank, we've lost nearly an entire generation over the past twenty years or so, and it's going to fall to you and your friends to eventually take the reins of leadership. Anything I can help you with I will."

"Thank you, Ms. Longbottom. I really appreciate it."

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At the door to the cafeteria they left Neville, Hermione giving him a hug. "Thanks, Neville, that was a big help."

"Of course, Hermione. I take it you're not coming in?"

"No, I have a couple more things to check out."

"All right. See you this afternoon?" 

"I might be a bit late, but I'll try to be there."

"Right. We'll save your seat."

"Thanks, Neville."

"See you in a sec," said Harry.

"Sure thing," said Neville, and he went back to join Luna and Hannah.

"So where're you off to now?" he asked Hermione.

"Hall of Records. I need to find out a few things."

"Right. And the over-eager school girl routine with Neville's gran?"

"Oh, that." Hermione actually blushed. "I just need her to think I'm interested in the whole Wizengamot and Ministry… well I am actually, so that's okay. I'll just be the over-achieving muggleborn who doesn't know any better."

Harry frowned. That bothered him somehow. He hoped Neville's gran wouldn't think about Hermione like that, but deep down he was pretty sure she would. It just came with being raised in a pureblood family, even if she was firmly against Riddle and his ilk. Even now, pureblood custom was the norm that everything was compared against. Harry suddenly felt a small pang of panic over what he had to learn about being the last Black and the last Potter.

Seeing Harry's frown, Hermione said, "Don't worry, Harry, I'm used to it. Besides, in this case it's true."

Harry mentally shifted back to the conversation. "I still don't have to like it."

She gave him a quick hug. "Thanks Harry. Save my seat." And with that she was gone.

Hermione didn't make it back to the trial that afternoon. Harry swung between boredom and concern. He tried to reassure himself with the thought that there wasn't much danger she could be in inside the Ministry, but given that half his life-threatening events had occurred inside a school, a bank, and the Ministry he wasn't very successful. Then he remembered she was at the Hall of Records. They'd be lucky if she didn't try to move in.

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Hermione again saved him the trouble of tracking her down, this time falling in beside him and Ron as they left the courtroom and headed for the bank of floos.

"Hey, Hermione. Find out what you needed?"

"Argh. No. What I did find out is that it's easier to talk with an Unspeakable than to get anything from the Hall of Records. You have to know precisely what you're asking for before they'll find it for you. You can't just ask a general question. And half of what I want to know they won't tell me because I'm not a member of the House in question. You're going to have to come with me tomorrow Harry, because some of the questions are about House Potter and House Black."

"Sure. What about the Unspeakable?"

"She was nice. Didn't tell me much either, but I'm pretty sure I believe her when she says that no one knows the answer. She did say my hunch was as good as any other."

"About what?"

"Not yet, Harry. I need to talk with Ms. Longbottom first, and find out the info from the Hall of Records."

"Humph. The Unspeakable try to recruit you?"

"Probably."

"Probably?"

"She asked me to come back and talk with her again once I either proved or disproved my theory."

"Figured you'd end up working for them," said Ron.

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Really?"

"Sure. You're the only person I know who learns stuff just for the sake of learning it. Where else would you go?"

"I… Thanks Ron."

"Sure."

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The next day at lunch, Hermione drug Harry off to the Hall of Records. He nearly bumped into her as she stopped suddenly in front of a set of double doors.

"Oh, sorry, Harry. So, I need you to find out a few things. First, are you Head of House Potter? And while you're at it see if they can track down your parents' will. It's suspicious that you haven't seen one yet. Second, are you Head of House Black? Third, are you Head of House Gaunt?"

Harry blanked for a moment, trying to place the seemingly random name. Once the connection was made, a surprised and loud "WHAT?" popped out of his mouth before Hermione could clamp a hand over it.

"Sorry, Harry, I should have warned you. As Sirius said, all the the old families are interrelated in one way or another. Technically, Draco is some sort of cousin of yours. So's Neville. You're _very_ distantly related to the Gaunts through the Peverells. You have your cloak, which supposedly came from Ignotus, oldest son to oldest son. If you have the cloak, you're likely the most direct descendant."

"Fine, I'll grant you all that, but why do we care if I'm somehow Head of House Gaunt? Why would anyone care and how could I be, haven't they all died out?"

"Even if they died out, there may be old agreements or alliances or such in place to keep track of. A House isn't truly dead until it's declared dead by the Ministry, and one of the few things they would tell me yesterday is that House Gaunt isn't dead, at least yet. If there's no heir going forward, inheritance can revert to the next nearest living relative. It can pass back generations."

Harry was soon too busy wondering when and how Hermione learned all this. "Oh. Do they keep track of stuff like that?"

Hermione pointed up at the letters over the door. "It's pretty much what this office is for. It's how they determine inheritances, and more importantly to the Ministry, taxes. Well, what little taxes purebloods pay. C'mon."

She pulled him through the doors and into the lobby. A counter stretched across the room, with windows like at a bank. Behind it Harry could see a vast room with shelves upon shelves holding scrolls, books, and stacks of parchment. They stretched higher than Harry could see through the counter windows, and nearly faded out into the distance. Dozens of workers were wandering the stacks, busily levitating records off or back on the shelves. Hermione tugged Harry over to an assistant on the right. The nameplate on the counter said 'Silas Collingwood'. He looked up as they approached.

"Ah, Miss Granger. Good to see you again. And you brought Mr. Potter. A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Potter. I should add my thanks to everyone else's for taking care of Lord Voldemort."

Harry gave a quiet "You're welcome."

"Well, then. In anticipation of Ms. Granger bringing you in, Mr. Potter, Mr. Heatherington has been researching your questions. I'm hopeful he'll be able to provide you with some answers."

Mr. Collingwood scribbled a brief note on a scrap of parchment and tapped it with his wand. It folded itself into an aeroplane and flew off into the depths of the stacks. "He'll be here in a minute or so. If you would just step though the door," he pointed to the side of the room, "he'll meet you there."

They went through the indicated door into a small room containing only a table and chairs. Another door presumably connected to the stacks of records. Moments after they settled themselves into chairs on their side of the table the other door opened and Mr. Heatherington came in.

He was tall and thin, with a head of white hair that went off in all directions. He had a quill tucked behind each ear, and another in his hand. His arms were full of scrolls and parchment, which he dumped unceremoniously on the table. Much of it slid towards the edges and was headed to the floor before he pulled his wand with his free hand and tapped the table. Instantly the parchment stacked itself neatly and the scrolls lined up in tidy rows.

"Ms. Granger?" He asked, extending his hand. She nodded. "Mr. Potter?" and shook his hand as well.

"Well, it is of course an honour to meet you both. I believe you had questions about the House of Black, Mr. Potter?"

Harry looked at Hermione, who just sat quietly. "Ah, yes sir. In Sirius' will, I was given the money, the vaults, the house and I believe 'the entire estate,' but it didn't specifically mention Head of House. I was wondering if you could tell me who Head of House actually is."

"Yes, a most vexing question. In anticipation of your arrival today, I did the research yesterday and this morning, prompted by Ms. Granger's questions and because the issue needs to be sorted anyway. A huge number of families in flux these days." His hands fluttered up in apparent dismay.

"The short answer to your question is, I don't know."

"How can you not know?" Harry asked. He looked to Hermione again, who still sat quietly. It seemed it was up to Harry to deal with this. "Is there someone else we, I need to ask?"

"Ah. To answer your second question first, no, there isn't. As of yesterday, the determination of the Black Family status has been assigned to me. There's been so much to do in the last several weeks we just haven't got to the Blacks yet. You asking moved that particular family to the top of my list. As to why I don't know, it's complicated."

He held up a hand as Harry was about to speak.

"Allow me to explain. First is the will." He pulled a parchment out from the middle of the stack. It was a copy of the will. "Mr. Sirius Black was indeed the last of the Black males in direct line. He was reportedly cast out of the family by his parents, but it was not registered with the Ministry. Apparently they felt they were above the need for such things. Therefore, his will does take precedence. Unfortunately, it does not mention Head of House. If you were a Black by blood in direct line, it wouldn't matter, but as you are not, it would have to specifically designate you as such to be incontestable. It's possible he just forgot, or didn't know that he needed to do it. Knowing his reputation, it's also entirely possible he left it out on purpose just to annoy the other branches of his family. Someone would be declared Head of House, but wouldn't even have a house to be head of, and you would have all their wealth and belongings, especially the heirlooms. Regardless of the circumstances, we cannot assign Head of House based solely on the will, since there are two with equally valid and if I may say confusing claims."

He pulled out a rather thick scroll and unrolled it. It was a family tree of the Black Family, similar to the tapestry at Grimmauld Place. Just minus the scorch marks. "Head of House would therefore pass through the other family members. Two generations back is another Sirius, and his brother Cygnus II. His grandchildren through his eldest son Pollux were Walburga, who is your Sirius' mother, and Cygnus III, from which now comes the main line of Blacks. Cygnus I's youngest sister Dorea is your grandmother by the way, so the will is not the only way you are part of the Black tree."

"Where were we? Ah yes, Cygnus III's children. The eldest, Bellatrix Lestrange nee Black could not be Head of House due to Black family rules barring females from being Head, but any male child of hers could. As she did not have children and is deceased, the point is moot. The next child is Andromeda Tonks nee Black. She was also cast out from the family, but this also was not recorded with the Ministry. She cannot be head, nor could have her daughter Nymphadora Lupin nee Tonks, but under most circumstances any male children either had could be Head of House."

"Teddy's Head of House?"

"Ah, no. He is also the son of Remus Lupin, a known werewolf, therefore the legality for him to be Head of House is in question."

"WHAT?"

"Please, Mr. Potter. No need to yell. Personally, I completely understand your anger. But according to the current laws, as well as Black Family tradition, Edward Lupin is the son of a 'dark creature' despite all evidence to the contrary. I mean Remus Lupin has been nominated for an Order of Merlin First Class by the Minister himself. This does not mean he _cannot_ become Head of House, it just means he is not _automatically_ Head. The situation where lycanthropy intersects with Head of House status has not arisen before, so there is no precedence."

"Oh."

"Yes, well, it gets more complicated."

"How's that possible?"

"Draco," said Hermione, speaking for the first time.

"WHAT?" Harry was having a hard time keeping up.

Hermione put her hand on Harry's arm. "Patience, Harry." Harry visibly calmed himself.

"Thank you," said Mr. Heatherington to Hermione. "Right then. Ms. Granger is correct. Narcissa Malfoy nee Black is indeed next in line, and she indeed has a male child, Draco. He is son, not grandson, but she is the younger sister to Andromeda. We'd have to search further into Black Family history to see how that would be resolved, but that's a minor detail. He potentially could make claim to Head status, or make claim to Regent status over Edward if it were found that Edward was indeed eligible and took precedence. Though your status as his godfather and Andromeda's wishes would have some bearing on his ability to claim Regent. Regardless, he has strong claims to either, or would if it were not for his Mark and upcoming trial."

Harry visibly relaxed further. "That takes him out of contention?"

"I'm sorry to say, not necessarily."

"Now what?" asked Harry, managing to keep his calm.

"Many Heads of House were found to be Marked previously, but claimed to be under the Imperious curse, and were able to continue to be Head, so there is precedence that the Mark in of itself does not disqualify you. Of course, now we know that they really weren't under the imperious then nor since. If he was still a minor at the time of being Marked, he can claim less culpability. But currently it's not been addressed legally whether the Mark effects anything, really. The Wizengamot hasn't yet had time to readdress it, what with the trials still going on. For now it's just a sign that someone needs to be questioned in further detail, likely with veritaserum."

"And Draco's trial?"

"A different matter entirely. If convicted to life in prison, or death obviously, he won't be able function as Head of House. If he is convicted of crimes against the House of Black, then his claim certainly loses credibility. If there were a current Head, he could just be formally and legally expelled from the family, but the lack of Head is the problem we began with. So we have to wait until the verdict of his trial before we know how strong his claim would be. Then someone would have to try to claim Head of House, and then the matter would have to be adjudicated by all parties willingly participating before the whole Wizengamot before a decision could be made."

"So the only way to know is to have the Wizengamot decide both Draco's sentence and then who's Head?"

"Well, as this an apparently true three way coparcenary, where all three have unique claims and disqualifiers, yes. I research this kind of thing for a living and I haven't the faintest idea how it would come out. It is of course allowed for a claimant to vacate their claim, but even with the Head gaining nothing of monetary value, I don't see anyone giving it up. Head of House Black still would have significant political and social value."

Harry turned to Hermione. "I don't see Draco giving anything up voluntarily, do you?"

"Not under normal circumstances, no."

"Well, fine, we'll just have to wait, then." Harry turned back to Mr. Heatherington. "I also need to ask about Head of House Potter." Hermione nudged him gently. "And my parents' will. I assume they made one, but I've never seen it."

"Yes, I anticipated that. I'm sorry to say, nothing is easy for you, is it?"

Harry tensed. "Now what?"

"Oh, nothing major, I assure you. You are indeed the last of the Potters, and Heir Apparent. You have access to the monies, vaults—"

Harry snorted. "I think the goblins might have a different idea about that." Gringotts was being quite slow in any dealings with Ron, Hermione, or Harry. The Ministry was still rebuilding and the Wizengamot was tied up with the trials, so official assistance was limited. Given their 'hero' status, the goblins assured everyone that all would be worked out, but actual progress was painfully slow.

"Yes, quite. You have access to the monies, vaults, and properties, but aren't eligible for Head of House until you're twenty-one. Just a Potter Family rule. Really all it means is you can't sell any property or make any betrothal agreements for anyone other than yourself."

"I have properties?"

"Just two. The cottage in Godric's Hollow, which is in some disrepair, and Potter Manor, ancestral home of the Potter family."

"I have a manor?"

Mr. Heatherington looked up at the anger in Harry's voice. Most people were happy to find out they inherited something.

"Yes, indeed. You were unaware of this?"

Harry was looking down, his hands tense on the arms of his chair. "Obviously. Where is it?"

"Well, this most unfortunate. We don't know." He raised both hands at Harry's angry glare. "Let me explain. As typical for most ancestral family homes, it has been unplottable for years, if not centuries. Standard practice, really. We have record of the floo being deactivated in 1980, so it's not accessible that way. We also have record of your being born there. But sometime since then its location was placed under a Fidelius. We know its name, and that it exists, but its location is unknowable, unless we find the secret keeper."

"You're kidding, right? You guys lose large estates often? Any national monuments go missing?"

Mr. Heatherington sighed, and Hermione squeezed Harry's arm again. "No, Mr. Potter. Such a thing hasn't happened before, as far as we know. But then, we might not know, then would we?" He chuckled. Harry was not amused. "Right, sorry. The fidelius is a very esoteric spell and rarely cast, and the losses to the magical population in the last twenty years or so are truly unprecedented. Such a problem has not described before."

Hermione put her hand back on Harry's arm. "It's all right, Harry. We'll sort it out later."

Harry calmed down. Slightly. "And just how are we going to find a lost-under-a-fidelius manor?"

"Later, Harry. It's not Mr. Heatherington's fault."

"All right, fine." He turned to Mr. Heatherington. "Sorry."

"No apology needed. As I said, nothing seems to be easy for you."

"So. The will?"

Mr. Heatherington sighed. "There is no record of a will being filed." He held up his hands yet again. "That doesn't mean there isn't one. It just means it wasn't filed with the Ministry. Given that your parents did file Mr. Black's godfather status, it would be likely that they did in fact make a will. Your best hope is that it's in the Potter family vaults. You hinted that you have not been into them as yet?"

Harry sat back, frustrated. "Nope. And not likely to any time soon either, given how annoyed the goblins are at me."

"Well, I would suggest you ask Minister Shacklebolt to help you with that. The magical world owes you more than we can repay, the least we can do is smooth things over with the goblins."

"Humph."

Hermione nudged Harry again.

"What?"

She nodded at Mr. Heatherington.

"Oh, yeah. Is there any way to find out if I am Head of House Gaunt?"

"Gaunt? I'm not familiar with that house."

"You will be soon," muttered Harry under his breath. His testimony about Riddle would become public knowledge after Draco's trial.

Hermione nudged Harry yet again, not so gently this time, and said, "Yes. Marvolo and Thorfin were the last of the Gaunts, they passed away within the last fifty years or so. They're descended from Cadmus Peverelle, while the Potters are descended from Ignotus Peverelle. Given all the recent deaths, it's possible Harry might be the most direct relative."

Before Mr. Heatherington could answer, Harry added, "While you're at it, is there any way you can find out if there's anything else I'm heir to or head of? I mean, you're looking already, why not just sort it all out?"

Mr. Heatherington frowned. "That's what all of us are already very busy doing. It's not only all the deaths, but the people already convicted, and then all the Death Eaters still waiting for final sentencing. This is likely the busiest this department has been since it was started. Whole lines are ending and in need of reassignment, it will be the largest shift of power and wealth ever."

He continued. "I could address your questions regarding House Black and House Potter as that's a service we supply to all the official Houses. A general search such as you're asking for would require an application form and fee, and a researcher being assigned to you. Given how busy we are, there's no telling when we can get around to the private requests again."

"Oh."

"Are you such a researcher, Mr. Heatherington?" asked Hermione.

"I am indeed."

"And the whole department is basically rebuilding all the family trees anyway?"

"Indeed," he said again.

"So what if your tasks and Harry's request just happened to overlap? I mean, you've already pulled the Black and Potter files, which I would imagine are huge. I know that many of the Death Eaters currently awaiting sentencing are related to the Blacks somehow, so you have to be monitoring them anyway. If you just focused your search while you're waiting for the verdicts and sentencing…?"

Mr. Heatherington paused. Everything she said was true. He had already dug through the Potter and Black files, which were now high priority, and several families would likely revert back to the Blacks given how 'dark' the family's associations and marriages had been in the past. It was probable much would be coming Mr. Potter's way in the next several months. And to be the researcher that Mr. Potter specifically requested…. The decision was not hard to make, and he was sure his supervisor wasn't going to argue. It would be political suicide to get on Mr. Potter's bad side. His pause was brief. He tapped the parchment pile with his wand and a sheet slid out from near the bottom. He slid it and one of his quills over to Harry.

"Print your name here. Put 'Black' and 'Potter' here. Put 'all' in this blank. Sign here to authorise the request, and here to allow the department to bill your vaults directly."

"How much is something like this going to cost?"

"Normally a full search is five hundred galleons. Since I'm supposed to be doing much of this anyway, I'm sure we can reduce that substantially. As Ms. Granger said," he smiled at her, "it's just a change in focus."

"What if the Gringotts won't pay the bill?"

Mr. Heatherington smiled again. "Then the Ministry would get involved and sort out your issues with them directly."

"Almost reason to do it right there," said Harry, signing in the places indicated. He turned to Hermione, who shook her head.

"Just so he does the Gaunt research first."

Harry looked to Mr. Heatherington, who murmured "Certainly."

"Well, I guess that's it, then. Thank you for your help, Mr. Heatherington. Please send any correspondence through the Minister's office; they filter my post for me."

"Of course, Mr. Potter. It's been a pleasure."

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"Was that as helpful as you hoped?" Harry asked quietly as they headed back through the Ministry to Courtroom Ten.

"It answered some questions, not others, raised some more."

"You ever going to tell me what's going on?"

Hermione stopped outside of the doors to the gallery, far enough away that the Aurors couldn't hear their conversation. Harry was suddenly struck how tired and anxious she looked. She had dark circles under her eyes, and was actually wringing her hands. He reached out and took them. "You okay?"

"I'm okay Harry. And I'm still not sure anything is going on. I need to sit with Augusta and visit with her Saturday. Can you wait until Sunday? I promise I'll talk with you then."

Harry searched her eyes again. "Sure, Hermione."

"Thanks, Harry."

They approached the doors, and one of the Aurors poked her head into the gallery. She opened the door all the way for them. "It's okay, they're still getting set."

They hurried in and quietly took their seats by Neville, preparing for yet another afternoon of hearing the continuing and ever growing list of atrocities of Lucius Malfoy.

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On Thursday and Friday, Hermione excused herself from the group, and sat with Augusta just far enough from the rest of the Wizengamot so as not to disturb them with her whispered questions, but close enough that Augusta was technically still in session. She focused on learning the history and procedures of the Wizengamot, but did ask the names of the other Wizengamot members, and their roles in the fight against Voldemort. She filled several feet of a scroll with her notes.

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Augusta Longbottom sat quietly with another cup of tea, contemplating her day with Ms. Granger. Her questions had been both broad reaching and thorough, and Augusta was left with several impressions. Several decades of politics and working off of impressions taught her to recognise their importance.

The first was that Ms. Granger was as brilliant as her Neville had said. Up until now she had just written it off as Neville's being impressed with her schoolwork and grades, but her questions had revealed a sharp and quick mind, with excellent recall.

The second was her appalling ignorance of the magical world, not so much the spells and wandwork, but the culture, history, and government. An ignorance Ms. Granger was quite prepared to point out. Augusta was forced to concede that, as there was no class at Hogwarts on magical culture, no information sent from the Ministry to muggle, er firstborn (Ms. Granger's preferred term) children and their families, or even a way for those families to _find_ the Ministry, perhaps her ignorance was not unexpected.

Even for Ms. Granger, who could access the Ministry, there was no listing of Wizengamot members, no concise record of their voting history or a primer on how the Wizengamot or Ministry worked. Augusta had never thought about such things before. They were all just things that everyone knew. Ms. Granger had commented that her only lessons on magical culture were that one wore robes, drank pumpkin juice, and the Slytherins called her mudblood all through her school years. Other than that, there seemed to be no mechanism or even interest in for teaching her and those like her about the magical world. Augusta was embarrassed that she was the first person to explain many of these things to her.

The last was a vague sense of unease. Ms. Granger's questions had been nearly encyclopaedic in scope, covering every aspect of Wizengamot and Ministry history and functioning. There had not seemed to be a particular focus. But scattered throughout her basic questions were some rather pointed ones. She had asked several times how a particular Wizengamot member had voted during the last few decades, or what they had done in the war against Voldemort. Reasonable questions, given the current trials.

Looking back at it in summary however, she was not pleased with the answers she had had to give. Some had fled the country, returning when it seemed safe. Some had died fighting Voldemort, some fighting in his service. Unfortunately more had been arrested and tried for supporting him. The majority that were left had voted the first time around, if it was even brought up, to exonerate the Death Eaters from any of their behaviour while 'under the Imperious curse.'

There were no mug- firstborn Wizengamot members, nor a reliable way for a firstborn to become one. None that she knew of had a firstborn spouse. There were also no firstborn department heads in the Ministry. She was embarrassed to admit that she didn't know what percentage of the magical population was first or second born. Augusta had just thought that Ms. Granger was a bright and curious witch, interested in working in the Ministry in some fashion and was finding out what was available to her, and still had no evidence to the contrary. But in the back of her mind was the concern that Ms. Granger was looking for something specific from her, and if Ms. Granger was looking for something, there was no way that she wouldn't have found it. Augusta just had no idea what it might be.

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Saturday, Harry was up early enough to see Hermione off to visit Mrs. Longbottom. Ron was having a lie-in. Several owls arrived for Hermione, and he put her letters and packages in her room. One letter arrived for him with a brief note from Mr. Heatherington. " _Records going back to the Peverell brothers incomplete. No way to prove or disprove Head of House Gaunt."_ Apparently he was working overtime. Harry left the note in Hermione's room as well.

He hung out with Ron through the afternoon, and persuaded Kreacher to allow him to make dinner. He made individual pot pies as they would keep well and he had no idea when Hermione would be home. He even managed to keep Ron from eating them all. Finally in late evening, while he and Ron were lounging around, not really doing anything but still thinking it was too early for bed, they heard Hermione come in the front door.

"How'd it go?" asked Harry just as Ron said, "You look beat."

Hermione plunked down in a chair. "Fine, and I am." She closed her eyes and rested her head on the chair back. "Mrs. Longbottom was a treasure trove of information. I feel like my brain is full, but I could have asked questions for several more days."

"Anything helpful?" asked Harry.

"I think so. I need to sort it all out in my mind."

"You got several packages and letters today. I put them in your room."

"Thanks, Harry."

"Harry made pot pies for dinner. They were delicious. We even saved you a couple."

"Thanks, but I ate at the Longbottom's. And no, that doesn't mean you can eat mine Ron. I'll have them tomorrow."

Harry mock glared at Ron. "Hey, at least I asked," Ron said in his defence.

She rested for a few more minutes. "I'm knackered. I'm going to bed, I'll see you in the morning."

"Not if it's early," said Ron. "It's Sunday, and I'm sleeping late. No ice water showers from demented house elves on weekends."

Hermione shook her head, heaved herself up out of the chair and headed up the stairs to her room.

"C'mon Ron, time for us too."

"But it's not late yet."

"C'mon, you can get a head start on your lie-in. Besides, if you stay up too late tonight, you won't sleep well tomorrow night and then you won't wake up Monday morning, and then you will get an ice water shower."

Ron shuddered. "All right, all right, I'm coming. You're almost as bad as my mum."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

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Harry woke at his usual time Sunday morning, and found Hermione already up and dressed and back staring at the tapestry. She was holding the note from Heatherington. Harry indicated the note. "That important?"

"Not terribly. It would have helped if the genealogy proved it. But there's a way to test it."

"Humph. I would have rather he sent a note saying they had found my manor."

"Oh, that."

Harry looked up sharply. "What do you mean, 'Oh that'?"

Hermione smiled tiredly and just said, "Kreacher?"

He appeared with a soft 'crack'.

"Yes, Mistress Hermione?"

"Are there any Potter elves?"

Kreacher's eyes unfocused for a moment, before he replied "No Mistress Hermione. No elves are attached to the Potters currently."

"Potter Manor may be under a Fidelius, would that keep you from finding them?"

Kreacher pulled himself up proudly. "I am an elf, of course not."

"Can you take Harry to Potter Manor?"

"Alas, Mistress Hermione, Master Harry, that the Fidelius can prevent. Only a Potter elf could do that."

Harry groaned in frustration. Hermione's idea had seemed so brilliant yet simple, his hopes had immediately soared, only to crash again.

Hermione put a hand on his shoulder. "Hang on Harry, we're not done yet."

She knelt in front of Kreacher. "Could you become Harry's Potter elf as well as his Black elf?"

Harry held his breath.

Kreacher deflated a bit. "If Master Harry wished it, I would."

"Would that let you find Potter Manor?"

"Yes, Mistress Hermione. The bindings of elf to House would require it."

Harry gave a whoop of excitement and gave Hermione a tight hug. "You're brilliant!"

"Hang on, Harry," Hermione said again.

"What? You found my home. Let's go."

"I think Kreacher is proud of being a Black elf. I don't think we should make him be a Potter elf if he doesn't want to."

Harry's excitement faded. "Oh. I'm sorry Kreacher. I just got excited."

"Of course, Master Harry."

"Well, if needed we can always try to find another elf. But I want to try something else."

"You have _another_ way to find it? And the ministry says it can't be found at all?"

"Maybe. It depends."

"On what?"

"Well, I got to wondering why your family was in that little cottage to begin with. I mean, that might be fine for your mum, being non magical, and your dad may have been fine living there temporarily, but he's supposedly from a wealthy and longstanding family. I assumed it was their cottage, but not their only property, and Mr. Heatherington confirmed that. But I couldn't figure out why they would move from one Fidelius protected property to another, unless they didn't want anyone else in on the secret of the first Fidelius. Assuming Dumbledore cast the second Fidelius, and Remus, Sirius, and Peter were possible secret keepers, that implies that none of them were the secret keeper for the first Fidelius."

"Seeing as how they're all dead, it doesn't matter either way, does it?"

"Yes, well, that leaves only a few people I can think of. If it were anyone else, a friend of your parents, they should have stepped forward by now. I asked Ms. Longbottom, she couldn't think of anyone, dead or alive, that were as close to your parents as Sirius, Remus, or Peter. And knowing that you were born there and likely lived there a while, that just leaves your mum, your dad—"

"Who are also dead."

"— and you."

"What? They made me the secret keeper? How stupid is that? I was a year old. How am I supposed to remember something like that? Or tell anyone else the secret when needed?"

"Harry, calm down. Not _the_ secret keeper. _A_ secret keeper, there can be more than one, they just have to be assigned when the spell is cast. I assume your mum and dad were too."

"Who are still dead. I still don't see how this helps us. How can I know a secret I have no memory of? This is ridiculous."

"Humour me, Harry. Remember, we can still see if there's an elf that would like to join the Potter family. There are lots soon to become unemployed, or revert back to the Black family. You have to trust the magic of the charm itself. If you were the secret keeper, and you wanted to tell Kreacher and I, how would you do it?"

"Well, for this place, it was a piece of paper naming the place and where it was."

"True, but that was different because there was a lot under the spell; the Order of the Phoenix, the name and address of this place, even its very existence. And Moody wasn't a primary secret keeper, he couldn't tell you, he had to show you a message from the primary secret keeper. If you're a primary secret keeper, you're free to tell us."

"How can I tell you the address when I don't know where it is?"

"Start more basic."

"What, 'Harry Potter is the secret keeper for Potter Manor'?" Nothing happened.

"Pretend you lived there and wanted Kreacher and I to be able to visit."

"Hermione, this is stupid."

"Please, Harry."

"Argh, fine. How about 'Harry Potter lives at Potter Manor'?"

Harry could almost feel the small 'pop' of the knowledge springing into existence in his head. He suddenly _knew_ where Potter Manor was. It came with a sense of being home, being connected. Vague memories of the smooth rails of a crib in his hands, sunlight and blue sky through large windows, splashing water into his own face during a bath, crawling on a plush carpet, the fibres squishing between his fingers, the absolute love and security of being hugged and rocked, came with it. He tried to sit down before his legs gave way, and missed the chair, landing on his bum on the floor. The emotions threatened to overwhelm him, and tears streamed down his face.

"Oh, Harry," said Hermione, kneeling down to hug him.

At the same time Kreacher held out his hand and said, "Would Master Harry like Kreacher to take him to his manor?"

"You can do that now?" Harry choked out.

"Of course. Master Harry told Kreacher the secret."

Harry took a deep breath to calm himself. "A secret I didn't know I knew. Damn effin screwy magic."

"Language, Harry," Hermione said softly.

"Sorry, Hermione. It's just so, so…."

"I know Harry. Would you like to go?"

"I'm all mixed up, Hermione. I want to. I'm scared to. I'm thrilled, excited, angry, nervous and a hundred other things all at once. It's what my life should have been, but wasn't. If my parents had just stayed there instead…. And what if it's all in ruins like the cottage, or not what I expected? Then I'll just be disappointed all over again."

"You can't 'what if' yourself, Harry. If your parents had stayed there, maybe Neville would have been the boy who lived, and eventually your parents would have ended up in St. Mungos. Or died later fighting for the Order. Or you died later, not being protected. Or a thousand other things. We can only go on from where we are with what we have."

Harry gave Hermione a tight hug. "Thanks, Hermione."

"Of course, Harry."

"And if I ever doubt you again, feel free to hex me until I come to my senses."

"Of course, Harry," she said again, this time with a small laugh. She stood and held out her hand, helping Harry up.

Harry held out his hand to Kreacher. He noticed Hermione was just standing with her hands wringing a little again. "Aren't you coming?"

"This is kind of special and private. I didn't know if you wanted me to come."

"Of course I do. I don't think I could do it without you."

She smiled a small smile. "Thanks, Harry." She held out her hand, and Kreacher took them away with a small 'crack'.

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They appeared on an old gravel road, weeds and grass growing tall down the middle, just outside a set of iron gates in a tall and thick brick wall. Ivy and other vines had taken over the walls. It looked wild and unkempt. The road continued through the gates, and a large house could be seen over and through scraggly tall shrubs and small trees. The lawns had turned into fields of tall grass, just now turning yellow and heavy with seed. Birds chirped and flitted from tree to shrub to grass and back.

"This is as far as Kreacher can take you, until Master Harry opens the wards."

"How the hell to I do that?" He looked at the gate. There wasn't a keyhole or anything. What was presumably the Potter crest was centred in the gate, split down the middle.

"Language, Harry."

"If I may, Master Harry?" Kreacher asked.

"What?"

"Place your hand on the crest and will the gates to open."

"Really, that's it?" he asked, putting his hand on the centre of the crest. He felt a sharp tingle in his hand and arm, and a pull in his gut, like a portkey starting to take effect, then the gate 'clanked' and cracked open. He pushed them open with a loud shriek of the hinges and they stepped through.

Kreacher took their hands and suddenly they were at the bottom of the front steps, before the main doors. They were thick and solid-looking wood, and did have a keyhole. Potter Manor stretched two stories up above them, left and right to matching wings that extended back towards the gate, forming a large courtyard. The entryway was thick with leaves and dirt, piled up against the wall and doors. Kreacher waved his hands and a small whirlwind scoured them away and dropped it all in the courtyard. Ivy had grown everywhere, obscuring the windows and walls. They could see grey stone on the first floor and brick on the second through gaps in the leaves. There were nearly a dozen chimneys, and windowed dormers under the stone tile roof. It was silent and lonely feeling.

Harry went to the door handles and tried to turn them. It was locked as expected. He pushed and pulled on the handles. The doors were as solid as they appeared. There was no tug of magic.

"We'll have to see if the key's in your vault, Harry."

"No! The goblins won't even let us in the bank yet, much less my vaults." Harry yanked on the handles harder. "I'm not leaving until I get into my house."

"Harry—"

"No!" he yelled, his voice cracking. He started kicking on the doors as he pulled and pushed on the handles. "I'm not leaving. I am Harry effin Potter, the last of the Potters, and this is _my_ effin house, and I … WANT… IN," each word punctuated by another kick.

"Harry—"

Harry felt another sharp tingle in his hands and pull in his gut, and the handles suddenly turned. He pulled the doors open.

"Well, that must have been close enough," Hermione said quietly.

Harry stood with his head down, fists clenched at this sides. He sniffed, then ran a sleeve over his eyes. "I'm sorry, Hermione," he said, equally quietly.

She reached out slowly and pulled him into a hug. "It's okay, Harry. I can't even imagine what this is like for you." She held him for a minute. "Do you still want to go in?"

"Yes. No. I don't know."

"We don't have to. You know where it is now, and how to get in."

"No, it's all right. I need to." He paused. "Thanks for being here with me."

"Of course, Harry."

The house dark and silent, and smelled stale. A thick layer of dust coated everything. White sheets encased all the furniture and whatever was hung on the walls. The entry way was large and open, stairs leading to a surrounding balcony of the second floor. Kreacher waved his hands at the lamps on the walls, and they barely flickered, only a tiny flame appearing. "The house has been without a source of magic for a long time, Master Harry. It is nearly depleted. Fortunately there was still enough for the wards to recognise you as a Potter."

"Houses have magic?" Harry asked, before remembering what Grimmauld Place was like when they first went there. It did seem to actively attack them, but it also was weak at first. The lamps were dim, and only the one painting of Walburga was active. And Kreacher had been a pale and warped shadow of his current self.

"Yes, Master Harry. The house takes in magic from the witches and wizards that live in it. It runs the functioning of the house, the wards, runes, and charms. It also provides magic for the elves, and binds them to the house and family."

Harry looked at Hermione, who just shrugged and said, "Later." She was surprising him with her rather relaxed attitude towards elves. Harry tried to decide which way to go next. Halls led to the left, right and ahead, and up the stairs were similar choices. "Is there a library, Kreacher?"

Kreacher thought for a moment and then pointed to the right. "There, Master Harry." They stirred up little clouds of dust and left footprints as they walked down the hall to the right past several closed doors, then to the right again as per Kreacher's directions. At end of the short hall a set of double sliding doors let them into the library, which seemed to occupy the whole end of the wing, both floors. The smells of paper, parchment, ink, and leather were added to the dust. A fireplace was set in the end wall, stairs leading to the upper floor just to the right of it. Ivy-covered windows let in little streaks of light from the left and right walls as well as to each side of the chimney on the upper floor. Sheets covered all the shelves, several sofas, chairs, and small tables, as well as something large over the mantle.

"Kreacher, can you…?" Harry asked, waving his hand in tight circles.

"Of course, Master Harry." He waved his hands, and the sheets popped up, shedding thick loads of dust before folding themselves and settling in stacks on a chair. The curtains shed similar piles of dust. Another whirlwind started on the upper balcony, scooping up the dust around the balcony, down the stairs, all around the main level before scouring the hearth and disappearing up the chimney.

"Nicely done, Kreacher, thank…."

Hermione turned from her survey of all the books to see what had distracted Harry. He was staring at the large painting now visible over the mantle. She gave a small gasp and put her hands over her mouth. James and Lilly Potter, life sized, with obviously a baby Harry, stared back at her. Lilly was sitting in a chair in this very room, Harry in her lap. James stood just to the side, hand on Lilly's shoulder. The colours were slightly muted with age, but Lilly's hair was still a deep flaming red, and both her and Harry's eyes the startling green she knew so well. James' hair was just like Harry's, and the similarity of the James of then and Harry of now was truly striking.

Harry walked slowly up to the mantle and gripped it with one hand, staring at the painting. "Can they talk, Kreacher?" Hermione could hardly hear him.

"There are only traces of magic in the painting, Master Harry. Perhaps it can still be refilled."

"How does that work?"

"Just you being magical, and whatever magic you cast, will slowly provide magic for the house. The wards are already strengthening from your presence, as they take precedence."

Harry pulled his wand. "Expecto patronum!" he yelled, but Prongs failed to appear, just a white mist. "Expecto patronum!" he yelled again, his voice cracking, but Prongs failed to appear again. Hermione could see tears streaming down his face. "Expecto… expect…" Finally sobs overtook him and he couldn't say the incantation any more. He sagged to the floor, crying.

Hermione knelt beside him, and wrapped him in her arms. "Oh, Harry."

"Why, Hermione, why? Why does everything have to be so hard? Every time I get close to something good it gets taken away. I know you said I shouldn't 'what if', but it's hard. I thought finding this place would be a good thing, but I just feel worse. I could have grown up here with my parents. Why did they leave? Why did they have to die? I'm just so angry, I don't know what to do. I can't even find a happy memory to do the patronus charm."

"Oh, Harry. I'm so sorry. I don't know what to tell you. I can't make it easier for you. But I can, and will, help you through it. I promise." She held him until he stopped crying and his muscles relaxed.

"Thanks, Hermione."

"Of course." She helped him up and they sat heavily on the nearest couch, shoulders touching, Harry still staring up at the portrait of his parents. She sighed heavily. "But now I have a problem, Harry."

"Why, what's the matter?"

"Well, it's what I've been working on the past week."

Harry suddenly remembered Hermione's time researching. And that finding this place, as momentous as that was for him, was merely a small side issue for her. He felt a sudden sinking sensation in his gut, and wondered how bad this was going to be. "What?"

"I need you to promise to hear me out, Harry, and not get angry, or go storming off, or anything. Just follow me through, and then talk with me, please?" Her anxious look was back, and her hands were wringing again. It appeared to have become an unconscious habit over the past week.

Harry knew it was going to be really bad, now. But also pretty important, if it had her this worked up. The least he could do was listen. "Of course."

She sighed, relieved. "Well, its started during Lucius' trial. The prosecutor, Mr. Mitchell, started listing names of people that Lucius had bribed."

"Um, that's kind of his job."

"I know Harry. But in earlier trials, and earlier in Lucius' trial, it was always 'name the people that-' or 'who else did you-'. But now he was asking about and naming specific people. He never asked for more names. And all the people he asked about were already dead or captured, which is a huge coincidence. Huge. And given that Lucius was basically the Death Eaters' treasurer and main channel to the Ministry, he should have been a gold mine of information, but he prosecutor didn't get anything new out of him. Sure, he had Lucius _confirm_ a ton of stuff, and everywhere else in the trial he had him his spill his guts, but for that one topic he changed his method, and I got suspicious."

"All this started because of questions he _didn't_ ask?"

"I know it seems crazy, Harry, but stick with me. I talked with Neville's gran about the Wizengamot and the remaining members. They're down about twenty-five members now. Most of the ones who were firmly against Riddle are dead, and his supporters are either also dead or captured. So what's left are people in the middle, most of whom couldn't be bothered to take a side. And most of whom also voted to _not_ prosecute or to acquit the Death Eaters that were brought before them the first time around. So I'm pretty sure they're bribable, and I'm pretty sure that Lucius is still protecting them, if not bribing them heavily again."

"You think he's going to get off _again_?" Harry asked, his voice getting louder the whole time and legs tensing to stand.

Hermione clamped a hand on his knee. "No, Harry, I don't. There's been so much other stuff brought up that there's no way he can be anything but guilty, and given the number of people he's admitted to killing, I'm sure he's going to be sent through the Veil. Any other verdict or sentence would cause riots in the streets."

"Hermione, I'm confused as hell. You're telling me Lucius is bribing Wizengamot members to find him guilty and sentence him to death? And that the prosecutor is helping him? That was going to happen anyway, why is he spending money to make sure?"

"You have to think like a pureblood, Harry."

"What?"

"What's more important than anything to someone like Lucius, Harry?

"Killing anyone who's not 'pure'?"

"More important than that."

"Ruling the world?"

"Close—"

"I was kidding Hermione."

"But you're close. Why does he want to rule the world and kill off everyone he thinks is unworthy? What was he going to do once he'd accomplished that?"

"I dunno, sit back on his piles of gold and torture muggles to amuse the grandkids that Draco and Pansy popped out?"

"Exactly."

"What? Hermione, I was _really_ kidding with that one."

"Harry, to a pureblood nothing is more important than the family line. Who your ancestors were, and _who your descendants are going to be_. Not pure enough, you're blasted off the family tapestry and kicked out of the family. The goal was to take over the world so he could _hand it over to Draco and his grandchildren_ , a nice pure 'mudblood free' world to run as they saw fit in perpetuity."

"I… that's…. holy shit. I never thought that far ahead. They were just the bad guys and needed to be stopped. But now that you put it like that, it makes total sense. But what's that got to do with bribing the Wizengamot?"

"Whose trial is left, Harry, the last one left?"

"Draco."

"Precisely. All this is to get Draco off, to continue the family line. Narcissa already was found innocent, setting precedence. She wasn't marked, didn't actually kill anyone, and inadvertently helped you destroy Riddle at the end. It was close, but she's free. I don't know if that had to be helped by bribery or not. Draco does have the Mark, but he didn't actually kill anyone that we know of to get it. He let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts, but the only person that killed anyone was Snape, and we, and everyone else, know why that happened. Dumbledore thinking he could be redeemed is going to help him a lot. And all through the battle, he didn't kill anyone.

"His defence is going to be 'yeah I'm a marked Death Eater but since I was so piss-poor at it I should go free'?" Harry asked, incredulous.

"Basically, yes. I'm sure the vote will be close, but I think he's going to be found not guilty. At worst he'll be fined. Things will settle down, and he and the rest of the pureblood bastards are going to get away with it. Twenty, thirty years from now we're going to be right back here again. Who knows what the Malfoy's have squirrelled away? If it's not Draco and his friends it'll be their kids. We need a way to take them all down, every single one of them, and in such a way that it can't be refuted."

"And Mitchell's in on all of this?"

"He has to be. He's done a brilliant job in all the other trials, and is otherwise shredding Lucius to pieces. He's building immense credibility, and there's even murmurs of him becoming the next head of the DMLE or even Minister of Magic after Kingsley. No one would suspect him of throwing a case or taking bribes, he's 'singlehandedly' put all the surviving Death Eaters away."

Harry leaned back and thought. "Hermione, this has to be the craziest thing you've ever come up with. I can see why you think this, but it's all based on a _question the prosecutor didn't ask_. This is worse than my suspecting Draco because he _wasn't_ bothering us. There's no evidence at all, is there? How are we going to get anyone to believe us"

"No, there isn't, unfortunately. But you were right about Draco then, weren't you? The only other thing I've got is what Lucius looks like before he takes the veritaserum."

"What?" Harry found himself saying again. Hermione seemed to be determined to derail his mind.

"How's he look, Harry?"

"Calm. Like he took a calming draught."

"I checked. No other potions allowed, so that there can be no doubt about the veritaserum."

"So maybe he's just resigned to his fate."

"Lucius would never 'be resigned' to anything. He's a pureblood elite, better than all the rest of us. He'd be smug, or sneering, or angry, or disgusted by the lesser beings around him and the blood traitors thinking they could judge him. But not calm. The only reason for him to be calm is that he has a plan…," she paused.

"…and that it's going well."

Harry found had to agree.


	2. The Mark part two

A/N: So here's part two. It was supposed to be short one-shot, but it got a life of its own and grew. It was not supposed to be a harmony story, either, but it kept happening in the plot and the dialogue, so I gave in. I find that writing romance is hard, and juggling that as the plot progressed was also hard, so I may tidy this up in the future.

As always, I own nothing, and thank Ms. Rowling.

The Mark, part two.

"So what's the problem, then? You figured this all out, Merlin knows how, we tell Kingsley, blow Lucius' plan to pieces, Draco goes to Azkaban, and we all live happily ever after."

Hermione was wringing her hands again. "I know, Harry, and much of that will happen one way or another. The problem is what happens at the end. I'm not sure about the happily ever after bit."

"Why not? All the bad guys are off the Wizengamot and in jail, once and for all."

"That's just it, Harry. It's not once and for all."

"Huh? Why not?"

"Wizengamot seats are hereditary, Harry. We clean it up, and their heirs, their very upset heirs, take over."

"So, they still have to keep their noses clean, and they can't be all bad. It could still be a good change."

"I'm not so sure for the long haul. They're all pureblood families. Not necessarily evil, but very traditional. They've done things like the Trace, and the underage magic laws that only seem to apply to non-purebloods, the really crappy way people like me are introduced to the magical world, the rules that may keep Teddy from being Head of House, and let you be put with the Dursleys just because Dumbledore said so. All the Death Eaters got a pass the first time around because they came from 'good families.'"

"They're used to getting their own way, and running things the way they want. It's just built in. It didn't start with Riddle, but it certainly allowed him to come to power, and it's not going to end now that he's gone. They can't even imagine that it's wrong or that there's another way to do things. They might be mad that I sent their parents to jail, but they'll be more mad that I didn't do things 'the way things were done.'"

"I checked, Harry. There's not a single firstborn Head or even assistant head in the whole Ministry. Ninety percent of the employees are connected to a pureblood family. They may not hate people like me, but they have no use for me either. And once they start in on how Riddle was a halfblood, and raised Muggle, and that's what the problem 'really was', I, and my children, and anyone like me are going to be at best a low level clerk or find themselves a graduate of Hogwarts with no job opportunities at all and have to go back to the non-magical world and start all over. That's actually what a lot of firstborn do already. I can't see it getting any better."

"Hermione, you have an Order of Merlin, First Class. You could probably get one of those empty Wizengamot seats yourself."

"Maybe Harry, but what good would it do? It'd be just me. I'd fight my whole life to fix things, and lose the entire time. I'd be a running joke, the crazy muggleborn witch with another stupid idea. They'd plan tea breaks or days off around when they knew I was going to speak before them."

"I'd help."

Hermione sighed, and wrung her hands tighter. "I know Harry, and now we're finally at my problem. I have two solutions. I don't like either one. They're not fair to you, and I can't ask them of you."

"Hermione, I promised to listen. You have to promise to ask. You can ask me anything."

"I know Harry, and that in itself is a reason not to."

"Hermione, stop making things complicated and ask."

"All right. The first is that I have to go find my parents—"

Harry felt a sudden lump of guilt in his stomach. "Damn. I forgot all about them. That's terrible. I'm sorry, Hermione, you do have to find them. But I'd be happy to help with that—"

Hermione put her hand over Harry's mouth. "I know you would, Harry." She took a deep breath. "But once I found them, I wouldn't come back. The packages that were delivered, they were information from the Australian Ministry of Magic. Things seem totally different there. Blood status means nothing, they're totally used to dealing with firstborns and their families, I could get any job I was interested in—"

Harry put his hand over Hermione's mouth. He had quit listening around the word 'packages'. The lump of guilt in his stomach became a gaping chasm, accompanied by a stab through his heart and a boulder in his throat. Never, in all the years he'd known her, had she ever suggested anything that would separate them. Sure she was bossy, and had on a few occasions gone over his head or fought with him, but it was always _for_ him, and in retrospect she usually was right. The thing with Ron had finally seemed to settle down, and they all got along as good as ever, his secret bouts of jealousy aside. Hermione was living at Grimmauld Place for the trials, and Ron pretty much was as well. Never, ever, had he contemplated what it would be like without her in his life. She was _always_ there for him, his one constant, and he had never thought she wouldn't always be there in the future.

The magnitude of his need for her shocked him. It was like he turned around and for the first time saw the mountain he was standing on, looked up from his feet and saw the great valley below him. His sudden recognition of his need for her was surpassed by the sudden possibility of losing her. He felt panic, despair, anger. The sense that yet again, something was being taken away from him overwhelmed him. He was suddenly faced with a turning point in his life, as big as finding out he was a magical, or hearing about the prophecy, one marked by the absence of Hermione. His emotions were already stirred up by the events of the morning, and his control over them was limited. The anger turned to rage, and he leapt off the couch.

"You're asking my permission for you to leave?" he shouted. "Leave me for good? Just when we win, just when there's finally a bit of hope, and you're leaving? How long have you been planning this—"

"No, no, no, Harry. I was going to ask you to come with me—"

Harry didn't hear her. "—planning this without me? You and Ron going off without me? You planning on taking him with you? But not me?" He was pacing, stomping actually, around the room, tears streaming down his face unnoticed.

" _Petrificus totalis_." Hermione, tears on her face as well, came around in front of him. "I'm so sorry Harry, I didn't mean to upset you. But the part you missed is that I wanted you to come with me." She released him from the spell and he collapsed to the floor, sobbing quietly. She knelt beside him and reached out to touch him, but pulled back.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," he finally said. His voice was muffled, as his arms were folded over his face. "I shouldn't have yelled at you like that. But when I thought you were leaving, leaving me, for good, there was this huge hole inside me, and I panicked, and I was angry, and I felt all alone again." He gathered his courage, the fear of loss adding to his bravery. "I never want to feel like that again. I can't not have you in my life."

"And the bit about Ron?"

"I'm sorry. I'm not proud of it, but I do get jealous of you two."

"Harry, Ron and I are not together."

Harry's face appeared from under his arms. His heart was pounding, a hope that he had been only partially able to suppress for months flared suddenly. "What, I thought you two were getting along great. I haven't heard any yelling or anything for weeks."

Hermione blushed. "Well, at first it was because we were, um, snogging. Then it was because we had to use silencing charms—"

"I didn't need to know that, Hermione."

She smiled and hit him on the shoulder. "—to keep you from hearing the yelling because we started disagreeing again. Prat."

"Sorry."

"And after that, it was because we agreed that without you as a referee, we couldn't be alone together without fighting, and needing you around forever just to keep us civil to each other was not a basis for a healthy relationship, and we broke it off. It seems that once the initial attraction was satisfied, there was nothing left in common to base a relationship on. There hasn't been any yelling since."

"How'd I miss all that?" Harry had a vague recollection of a few-days span several weeks ago where they seemed mad at each other, then really not much since.

"We were trying to keep you from being uncomfortable, then we were trying to solve things on our own just to prove that we could, then it didn't matter any more. And you had much more important things to worry about."

Harry just grunted.

Hermione rested her hand on Harry's arm. "And you and Ginny? I notice you two haven't been spending much time together."

"Oh. We had a chat too, back when the trials started. There was nothing there any more. My time away, her time in the castle under the Death Eaters, we grew a lot, and grew apart. We're still friends, but nothing more than that."

"How'd I miss that?"

Harry sniffed mightily and rolled onto his back. "Well, you were up in your room, being quiet. I don't know what stage you were in. And the trials lasting all day every day doesn't really leave much time for gossiping."

He took her hand. "You really want me to move to Australia with you?"

Hermione sighed and looked down, her hair hiding her face. "When I figured out what my life would most likely be like if I stayed here, and that I should just move to Australia and convince my parents to stay there, the one thing that kept me here was the same thing you just said. I couldn't not have you in my life. I'd want you to help me find my parents. I'd want you to meet them. I'd want to see Australia with you." Harry felt a sudden warmth in his chest that spread out everywhere, relaxing the tightness.

"So why didn't you just ask?"

"It wouldn't be fair to you, Harry. You just got some sort of normalcy in your life, I couldn't then ask you to leave everything behind. And you're the last of the Potters, and now the Blacks. You're important here, Harry, and I'm leaving because I'm not—"

"Hermione, please. You are too important. And you of anyone should know I don't care about all that. I don't even know what 'all that' means."

"I know. But it doesn't make it not true. I couldn't ask you to give it all up."

"I've done fine without 'all that' all my life, and I really don't have any interest in it. Giving it up isn't hard at all."

"But now…" said Hermione, waving at the room around her.

"Yeah, I guess that does make it a little tougher," but he was looking only at the portrait. He blinked, then looked around the room. "Where's Kreacher?"

He appeared with a small 'pop,' with a tray of tea and scones. "I thought Master and Mistress would need some tea." He put the tray down on a low table by the sofa.

"Thanks Kreacher. Are you sure it wasn't my yelling that sent you off?"

"No, Master Harry. I knew Mistress Hermione would set you right. And that was nothing compared to Mistress Walburga. Call if you need me."

"Hang on, Kreacher. Can we take the portrait with us?"

Kreacher looked up at the portrait. "Usually, Master Harry, they can be moved, even house to house. But its magic is so low I do not know how it would be effected. If it were to be restored, then we could tell for sure."

Harry was staring up at the portrait again. "Thanks, Kreacher."

"Of course, Master Harry," and he popped away.

"You really want me to move to Australia with you?" Harry asked again, still staring at the portrait. He suddenly had butterflies in his stomach. Things like vaults and manors and trials seemed very unimportant.

Hermione sighed. "Yes, Harry. I do."

"Is this a really complicated way to ask me out?" He was nervous and hopeful and slightly giddy all at the same time.

"I hadn't got that far in my thinking. I couldn't really assume you'd come with me."

"Hermione, we just got through admitting we couldn't not be together."

"I know, but if we're not even on the same continent—"

He squeezed her hand. "I promise we'll work it out." 

"But your house—"

"Hermione. It's just a house. It keeps the rain off and the heat in. Other than the portrait I'm not even sure there's anything here that would mean anything to me." He snorted as she looked up and around at all the books. "There's time to go through everything." He paused. "So does that mean we're going out?"

"It'd be nice.…"

"You're going to have to help me out here. I've got little experience with any of this, and most of it went wrong. I don't want to ruin things even before we get started."

"Are you sure? Maybe you should wait and see how things with the trials—"

Harry was getting frustrated and worried. "Hermione, stop. Will. You. Go. Out. With. Me?" he asked, each word punctuated by another squeeze on her hand. Hermione didn't answer, and the butterflies in his stomach got much worse. Was she just telling him idle wishes, but didn't really like him enough to commit?

"I'd love to, Harry," he finally heard.

Harry gave a great 'whoop' of joy and pulled Hermione down into a crushing hug, rocking them back and forth. Hermione squirmed to get her arms under his and hugged him back. A few minutes later Harry heard a small sniff from Hermione. He loosened his arms and leaned his head back a bit. She was crying. Harry panicked. He was finally going out with Hermione, and the first thing he did was make her cry.

"You all right?"

"I'm fine."

"But you're crying. Did I do something wrong already?"

She propped herself up on his chest. "No, no, no, Harry. I'm just very happy and very relieved."

"People cry because they're happy?" He was unaware of this phenomenon.

"Yes, Harry. Especially if they're very happy."

Harry reached up to wipe a tear off her cheek. "Oh. That makes things difficult, then."

"Why?"

"Well, on the one hand I don't want to make you cry. On the other, I want to make you as happy as I can—"

Hermione giggled. He hadn't heard her do that before, and it did funny things to his insides. He found he rather liked it. "What?"

"That was cheesy."

He cupped her cheek, and she leaned into it. "But it's true." He stared into her eyes. They were sparkly, and happy. And deep. And getting closer. He was slightly surprised as she pressed her lips to his. His list of kisses to compare it to was short, being either damp or tingly and vigorous. This was gentle and deep and warm and caused a rushing sound in his ears and made him a little dizzy. It was perfect.

It took him a moment to focus after it ended. "Wow." Hermione giggled again. Yes, he definitely liked it when she did that. "I think asking you to go out with me is the smartest thing I've ever done. Thank Merlin you talked me into it."

Hermione rewarded him with another kiss.

Several minutes later he was able to get back on track. "All right. So that's Plan A. What's Plan B?"

"You're not going to like this one either, Harry."

"Well, other than a few details that need sorting, I kind of like Plan A." He kissed her again.

"Thanks Harry, you're sweet. Let me tell you why you're not going to like it first."

"Okay.…"

"You've done enough. More than enough. I can't ask you to take on more. You just need time to be yourself, to do whatever you want, not have the pressure of the magical world on you again."

"Appreciated. But unless there's another crazed lunatic tied to me by a prophecy that says only I can defeat them, I don't see that I in particular have to do anything. That being said, what's Plan B then?"

Hermione mumbled something.

"Hermione, speak up."

"I said, you could take it over."

"Take what over?"

"The Wizengamot. The Ministry. All of it."

"What? How the heck could I do that? Evil wizard out to get me I get. Prophecy, a little dodgy, but it explains why said evil wizard was out to get me. Horcrux, blood rituals and Elder wand, totally weird, but it worked out. But I got nothing on how to even get on the Wizengamot, much less take it and the Ministry over."

"Bear with me Harry. I told you they're short a whole bunch of members. You'll probably get a seat for either House Black or House Potter. If you pushed for it you could get both, holding one for your kids."

"So that's why you wanted to know my Head of House status. Great. So assuming that they give them to me though I'm not or not yet Head of House, that's two. I'll push for you to get one, so we're up to three. Neville's gran might vote with us. Susan Bones and Hannah Abbot might become members soon, so we're up to six."

Hermione hit his shoulder. "Prat. Let me finish. Though I am impressed that you knew even that."

"Hey."

"You'd be the first to admit that politics are not your best topic."

"Agreed. So how do we get another twenty some seats?"

"We might not need that many. First we expose Lucius' plan, and have as many members arrested and thrown off as we can."

"That gets them out, not me in."

"I know, Harry. Like I said, the seats are hereditary, and there are enough Death Eater members about to get sentenced to even things out briefly. And before they get sentenced, thus completing their conviction, they're still able to manage their households and more importantly make wills, assign their Wizengamot seats, and assign Head of House."

She paused again. "We're going to get them to assign it all to you."

"What? You really think all those Death Eaters are going to give me all that just because I asked nice?"

"No. I think they'll probably yell and curse and threaten to kill you. But if you order them to, they might."

"How do you figure that?"

"It depends on if you're heir to the Gaunt line."

"Heatherington said I wasn't."

"Heatherington said he couldn't find out. Magic will determine if you actually are or not."

"Fine, fine. So what if I am?"

"Here's the part you really, really, won't like Harry. If you're the heir to the House of Gaunt, you also inherit from Riddle."

"What, a shack and an old house? The Ministry confiscated anything else he may have owned."

"Yes, those. And maybe, just maybe, control over the Dark Mark."

"WHAT?"

"I know, I know. I know it's terrible. But it's possible."

"You want me to take over where Tom left off—"

"NO! No, Harry, no. Nothing like that. No killing, no hurting, no overthrowing the government to establish a pureblood dictatorship. But if all that power and wealth is about to shift down a generation, why must it go back into the hands of a bunch of purebloods who's only apparent goal in life is to make life miserable for the rest of us?"

"As you know, I talked with one of the Unspeakables. She didn't know for sure what the Mark was, but it reminded her of a slave binding from ancient Egypt. Given that's likely where he got the horcrux idea, it makes sense. The slave binding that she knew of bound the slave to the royal _house_ , not just the person. It was actually felt to be a sign of trust and honour. It also did not require you to rape, maim, torture or kill to get it, either. That was just a fun bonus Riddle added. If he found out the same information the Unspeakable had, then it's possible that control over the Mark passed to you, and if it did, you can tell them to leave everything to you."

"I know you hate the spotlight Harry, and politics, and don't want to be seen as a conquerer, but only you, and only at this point in time before they're sentenced, can we make this work. We can take that wealth and power and break open the Ministry and the Wizengamot so that it represents everyone, not just a wealthy few."

Harry sat back, stunned. The sheer brilliance and scope of Hermione's plan was astounding. If it wasn't about him, he'd be all for it. But she was right. He hated the spotlight, hated politics, and especially politicians. He hated to think what the public would say about him the moment he did something unpopular. Hell, he hated what they said about him just for living his life. And he didn't want the power anyway. Who was he to make all the decisions? He was done fighting, done worrying about the fate of magical Britain. It's was someone else's turn.

But Hermione was also right about who would be left. He thought about the next generation of non-magical-born and -raised coming into the magical world. Why should a few old families make all the rules that all the rest had to follow? If things went back to the way they were, Hermione was leaving for good, and Harry likely would be too. But what about everyone else who couldn't? What would their lives be like? Could he really not care about them?

Words and phrases from the past popped into his head. "Try for some remorse."(1) "…it's going to fall to you and your friends to eventually take the reins of leadership." "Maybe you don't have to do this all by yourself, mate."(2) It all came to him in a flash of clarity. Harry started laughing. It was perfect. And hilarious. The Marauders would be proud. He couldn't stop laughing it was so funny.

Hermione stared at Harry as he broke out in laughter. Thankfully it was honest to goodness laughter, not evil 'I'm going to take over the world laughter.' She shook him.

"Harry."

"Harry?"

"Harry!" she yelled, poking him.

Harry opened his eyes and saw Hermione staring at him, her expression shifting from confused to concerned to annoyed. He tried to control himself before she pulled out her wand again.

"I'm sorry, Hermione. I'm not laughing at your idea. It is as usual brilliant. And you're right that I don't want all that power. But you're wrong on two counts."

"What?"

"Well, we are in fact going to overthrow the government in a way. Hey it was your idea," he added hastily as she got a look of horror on her face. "And not only do I not want all that power, I shouldn't have it. No one person should have it. That's part of the problem. Instead of getting all that power and being able to make lives better for others, why not just let them make it better for themselves?"

Hermione stared at Harry blankly for a few seconds, following his thoughts. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, then she started laughing as well. "Oh, that's brilliant. And it gets you off the hook."

"Well, we still have to do all the work. And how do we find out if it actually will work?"

"We'll just have to try it."

"We'll need volunteers if it does."

"Call a meeting for after tomorrow's trial, then meet with Kingsley."

"We're going to need some help. We can't involve Kingsley too much officially, or he'll get in trouble. We need someone pureblood enough to walk us through this, but who understands the non magical world enough that they'd want to help."

Hermione thought for a moment, then smiled. "Andromeda. She's a Black, but married a firstborn. And we have to talk with her about Head of House Black anyway."

"Brilliant! If it doesn't work, I give Head of House Black to Teddy and we take off. If it does work, we take over the Wizengamot, then we take off."

"You'd leave anyway?" 

"Of course. We have to find your parents, and it should be soon. We don't have to stay away permanently if we can make things better, but there's no reason we can't take a long holiday. I say we deserve one."

A huge smile lit up Hermione's face and she wrapped Harry in a huge hug. Harry squeezed back, liking this more and more. A sudden thought worried him.

"Hermione?"

"Hmm?"

"I hate to ask, but what about Ron?"

She lifted her head up. He loved looking into her eyes. "What about Ron?"

"What are we going to tell him about…you know?" and he tightened his hug.

"Us?"

"Yeah."

"That I owe him five galleons."

"What?" That was not an answer he expected.

"It's not yet Christmas, and we're going out. That was his bet. I thought he was crazy, but…." She shrugged and kissed him again.

"When did that happen?"

"That's one of the things we talked about. After we decided that we weren't suited, he said he always knew you'd be better for me, but he was glad that he and I had the opportunity to give it a go. At least he wouldn't always be wondering. Then he said you and I would be together by Christmas, I said he was crackers and it turned into a bet."

"Ron Weasley said all that?"

"Yeah, I was impressed too."

"Well, that's a load off." 

Hermione giggled again.

"What?"

"We're plotting to overthrow magical Britain and you're nervous about what Ron might think about us going out?"

"Well, one's the right thing to do, the other had a high likelihood of getting very messy."

Hermione just shook her head. "That's my Harry."

Harry liked the sound of that. He sighed. "Want some tea?"

"I'm kind of happy where I am."

 _Happy_. "Happy. Yes." He pulled out his wand. "I have a new, very happy, memory." This earned him another kiss. Pointing his wand at the portrait, he said very quietly, "Expecto patronum."

Prongs appeared out of his wand, larger, brighter, and more solid appearing than ever. It trotted around the room before leaping up at the portrait, splashing against it. A silver light enveloped it, fading slowly. No one was moving, but the colours seemed brighter, the depth deeper.

Hermione tightened her hug. "Well done, Harry." Her stomach let out a little rumble. "Maybe some tea and scones would be good."

They plunked themselves down on the couch and grabbed a mug of tea and a scone. The tea was still hot, the scones warm. "Thank Merlin for Kreacher," Harry said.

"Yum," agreed Hermione. They sat quietly for a few minutes.

"So how do we do this?" asked Harry.

Hermione dug in her pocket and pulled out her DA galleon. She tapped it a few times with her wand. "First, we notify everyone to stay after the trial tomorrow for a meeting, just, like, that." She put the galleon away. "We'll make note of those that still need to be alerted beforehand and at lunch."

"Second, like I said we need to talk with Andromeda. Today if we can. We need to talk about Teddy and Head of House. It might work best legally if she gives up claim of Head of House on Teddy's behalf, but then you make him the Heir and her the regent. Once you get Head of House, you can do what ever you have to do to make her a Black again according to the family rules. We also need to see if she will be Proxy for some of our younger Hogwarts' members that might suddenly find themselves with a Wizengamot seat, and tutor for the rest of us on how purebloods think. We'll send Kreacher with a note when we get back."

She continued. "Then we talk with Kingsley about visiting the Death Eaters in prison. We need a reason to want to see them."

"That came to me earlier. Dumbledore was big on redemption and forgiveness, even wanted to give Riddle the chance to feel remorse and heal his soul. I'm sure Kingsley picked up some sense of that."

"Ooo, nice one. If he needs convincing I'll add something about needing closure or some such."

Harry laughed. "Do we feel bad about doing this to him?"

"He needs plausible deniability. We don't have to convince him so much as anyone who might question his decision to let us do this. I give him even odds on figuring it out but not caring."

They sat and enjoyed their tea and scones. "You really think this will work?" Harry asked.

"As you said, magic is screwy. You might be the heir by descent. Then there's the whole shared a soul for most of your life, shared blood and therefore your mum's sacrificial magic, defeated him in combat half a dozen times, and apparently hand delivered a chunk of his soul to the afterlife. I don't know of any two people more closely intertwined than the two of you."

"Eww. Now that you put it like that, I feel all slimy."

"Harry, you willingly sacrificed yourself to save the rest of us. I think you can safely say any sliminess has been removed."

"Humph. Though a story about defeating him in combat and getting control over the Mark that way might be more impressive to the Death Eaters than telling them they killed off enough other purebloods to leave me the heir. "

They finished their tea.

"Shall we?" Hermione asked.

"Of course. Think Ron is up yet?"

"Only if Kreacher has started cooking lunch and the aroma woke him."

"We'll find out. Kreacher?"

Kreacher appeared with a soft 'crack.'

"Yes, Master Harry?"

"Thanks for the tea and scones, they were lovely."

"Of course, Master Harry." Kreacher gathered up the plates and cups onto the tray, and it all vanished. "What else can I do for you?"

"We're about done here, we were wondering if Ron was up yet."

"Not yet, Master Harry, but the roast just went in the oven."

"How's the magic of the house?"

Kreacher paused for a moment. "The wards are recharging. The house is the same." He looked at the portrait. "The portrait has easily detectable magic. Not nearly as much as it should, but much more than when we came."

"Excellent. Can you take us back to Grimmauld Place?"

"Of course, Master Harry. But you should seal the house again."

"How do I do that?"

"Somewhere in the house or your vaults should be the Potter Family Codex or similar collection, which will have all the specifics of the Potter history, wards, manor, spells, and other magic. In the meantime, now that the house has recognised you, you should be able to seal the doors the same way you opened them."

"Perhaps without the kicking and swearing."

"Sorry about that."

"No need to apologise Harry, and I was just teasing."

They left the house and Harry pulled the doors shut. "Close," he said. The doors clicked and he again felt the tug in his gut. "Humph." He wiggled the handles. They were locked. He stood staring at the doors, and ran his hand over the smooth wood.

"Harry?"

"Sorry, Hermione. Just nervous I guess."

"About what?"

Harry turned and gave her a big hug, kissing the top of her head. "Today has been a very up and down day, but on the whole one of the better ones I've ever had." Hermione gave him a big squeeze. "So far in my life, everything important to me has been taken away. I just worry that if I leave here I'll never find it again, or that you'll disappear somehow too. I know it's not rational, but…."

Hermione squeezed again. "Oh, Harry. I'm not going anywhere, and if nothing else I'll make sure the rest of your life makes up for your losses so far. As for coming back here… where exactly is here, Kreacher?"

"County Hampshire, Mistress Hermione. Due east of Twyford."

"Certainly close enough to apparate ourselves. Prove you can open the doors again then we'll prove you can get here on your own."

Harry sheepishly placed his hands on the doorknobs and said, "Open." He felt the tug again, and the handles turned. "Thanks for being patient with me." He sealed the doors again.

"Of course, Harry."

Something clicked in Harry's mind. For a long time, they had been saying 'of course' to each other. He couldn't really remember when it started. But now it meant a great deal, a depth and permanence to whatever their relationship had been, was now, and what it might be. Somewhere along the line, 'of course' had come to mean 'I love you' as well. He turned and looked at the mountain again. It was bigger and more magnificent than just a few minutes ago. He wrapped Hermione in another hug, holding her silently.

"Harry?" Hermione asked after a minute.

"How long?"

"How long what?"

"How long have we said 'of course' to each other?"

"What… oh." She quickly figured out the significance. "A couple years for me." She gave him a squeeze.

"I suppose for me, too. Why haven't we gone out before now?"

Hermione sighed. "It's complicated, Harry. Partly we were too young. Partly our lives have not exactly been normal. Partly we built our relationship without the burden of the hormonal attraction we had for others. Partly we had hormonal attraction for others. Partly you're Harry Potter, hero of the magical world and I'm just a muggleborn witch—"

"Hey. None of that. You know I hate that."

"I know Harry, but it's part of the world we live in."

"Doesn't make it true. Without you, I would have died at eleven. And many times since."

"Thanks, Harry."

"Promise me something?"

"Of course, Harry. What?"

He gave her another squeeze. "From now on, things aren't complicated. You have me and I have you, and that's all we need."

She hugged him tighter and sighed again. "I like that, Harry."

After a minute she turned to Kreacher. "To the gates, Kreacher."

Kreacher took them to the gates and Harry closed, opened, and closed them again. Then Hermione made him apparate to Grimmauld Place and back on his own against his protests that it was unnecessary.

"Think, feel, and know are all different things, Harry. I want you to _know_ you can come back here."

When he popped back, he wrapped her in another hug and stared again into her eyes from up close. "Thank you for all this today, Hermione. I _know_ I want you in my life."

Her eyes crinkled from the wide smile on her face. "Of course." She kissed him again.

They disappeared with a pop back to Grimmauld Place.

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They were sitting in the kitchen, enjoying another cup of tea when Ron finally joined them. He was still in his pyjamas and his hair was sticking up in all directions.

"Morning," he said with a large yawn.

"Morning Ron, welcome to the land of the living."

Ron just grunted. Kreacher slid the last few scones and a cup of tea in front of him.

"Thanks Kreacher," Ron said, taking a big bite. After a sip of tea, he seemed more alive.

"What's up for today?" he asked.

Harry blanked for a moment. He still wasn't sure Ron wouldn't be angry. That and Harry was still cautious about what he shared with Ron. He wasn't the best at being discrete. Hermione took pity on him. "We were talking about visiting Teddy. We should hear back from Andromeda soon," she said. "You want to come?"

Ron inhaled deeply, appreciating the smell of the roast. "Nope. I think I'll stay here for lunch. Though visiting family reminds me that I should probably pop over to the Burrow today."

"Just in time for Sunday dinner at the Burrow?"

"Exactly." He turned his attention back to he tea and scones.

Kreacher brought a letter in to Harry. "Ms. Tonks' reply, Master Harry."

"Thanks, Kreacher." He opened it and Hermione leaned in to read.

Ron finished his scones, and looked up to see Harry and Hermione talking quietly about the letter. They sat pretty close. They seemed pretty close. And stayed pretty close. Closer than usual.

"Ahem."

They looked up.

"Anything you want to tell me?"

Harry paled. Hermione saw this and laughed. Shaking her head, she pulled five galleons out of her bag.

Ron just smiled, then gave a loud "Hah," grabbing the galleons. "Way before Christmas, too."

Hermione laughed again. "Smug bastard."

"Too right. You all right there, Harry?"

"You sure you're okay with this, Ron?"

"More power to you, mate." He raised his tea in salute. "We're definitely not suited. Besides," he jingled his coins, "it got me five galleons." He looked at Harry for a moment. "You were really worried, weren't you?"

"Well, yeah. You guys seemed to have this thing for years…"

"Not that we're all that old and wise now, but most of that was being too young and nervous to do much. When we finally got up the nerve, well you can see that it didn't last long. Now the pressure's off we get along much better. Don't we, Herms?"

"Much. And don't call me Herms," she said with a smile.

Ron laughed. "See?"

"Well, all right then."

"So what're you guys planning?"

Harry was on more comfortable ground now. "Oh, Hermione's just figuring out how to take over the world."

Ron laughed. "No, seriously, what are you planning?"

"Just making sure that Draco won't get off. Check your DA galleon. We'll have a meeting after the trial tomorrow."

"We're having a meeting on how to make sure Draco goes to jail? Count me in. How was he going to get off?"

"Well, he never actually killed anyone, and Narcissa already testified that he didn't identify Harry when he could have, and she got off."

"He was never very good at being bad, was he? Even you beat him up."

"What do you mean, _even_ me?" Hermione asked as Harry laughed. "And shut it, you," she said, poking Harry in the ribs.

Ron tried to backpedal. "Well, at the time, you must admit you weren't the strapping fighter that you are today."

Hermione tried to reply, but kept busting up instead. Harry trying to keep his laughter in enough not to get poked in the ribs again didn't help. Finally Hermione got herself under control.

"Okay, fine. I'll agree, he wasn't much of a challenge. Even with his two goons."

"See, he was bollocks at the whole evil thing."

"True. But we have to make sure that doesn't become an adequate excuse."

"I'll be there. You guys heading over to Andromeda's?"

"Pretty quick," said Harry, waving the letter. "Should only be gone a couple of hours. Don't eat all the roast."

"I will save some for you both, Master Harry," said Kreacher.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Monday's trial continued like most of the days before. They had covered the planting of the Horcrux diary, and were dealing with Lucius' manipulation of the Ministry, and the Minister. Fudge was already under arrest himself, but as he was merely corrupt and incompetent and never actually tied to Voldemort, his trial was slated for much later. Most of the Hogwarts contingent was there, the few that were missing were contacted by owl and made it for the start of the afternoon session. Hermione had gotten permission from Kingsley to stay after for a while in the courtroom. She did have to promise that there would be no battles or wandering off into restricted areas of the ministry. She was pretty sure he was teasing. Once the courtroom was clear, Hermione stood.

"Um, thank you all for coming. Harry and I—"

Harry snorted. "Hermione, take credit where its due."

"Okay fine, I noticed something during Lucius' testimony, and it got me thinking. I did some checking, and I think I'm right about a couple things, and I need your help."

She pulled a parchment and quill out of her bag.

"Not again," said a voice from the back, prompting equal measures of laughter and grumbling.

George spoke up. "Oi. Shut it." As George seldom said anything lately, this quieted the room. He turned to Hermione.

"Important?"

"Very."

"More important than how the DA turned out to be?"

"Much." This guaranteed everyone's attention.

"And the parchment?"

"A written binding and oath that will make you unable to discuss what's to follow until released, maybe in about a month."

"Anything illegal?"

"Um, probably not." More grumbling and laughter. "Even if you don't want to participate, this has to remain secret. If you don't sigh, you'll have to leave."

"Give it over." George signed at the bottom without even reading it, and handed it off.

"Just like that?" asked Justin.

George gave Justin a bleak look. "These three pretty much saved all our arses as well as the whole damn country, and I don't know about you, but what I learned in the DA saved my life. If the brains of the outfit says it's important, I'm in."

"Well, if you put it like that," Justin muttered, signing the parchment.

Everyone signed. Hermione addressed the group again. "Right then. You all saw that Narcissa Malfoy was declared innocent. It was a close vote, but she's free. There's only one trial left—"

"You think Draco's going to get off?" asked Lee.

"Yes, that's what we're worried about. He has the Mark, but never killed anyone to get it, never killed anyone at all. He didn't identify Harry when he was captured, and didn't do much in the final battle. Dumbledore went to great lengths to 'redeem' him, and the Wizengamot knows it. We think he'll be fined, but might avoid prison."

"So what do you want us to do?" asked Lee again.

"Nothing about that, we've got that covered, I think. It's what comes after."

"What?" came from about half the group.

"Well, you'll notice that the Wizengamot is down several members. And that might get worse soon. What we need is…"

Hermione laid out part of their plan, Harry as the mighty conqueror convincing the Death Eaters to repent, but minus any discussion about the Mark, to mixed shock and amazement, and in George's case, hilarity. It was the first time he had laughed since the battle. In the end she had plenty of volunteers. No one disapproved, even those from magical families. She and Harry would be busy for the next couple of weeks.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Let me get this straight," said Mr. Harris. "You want me to be on retainer to record and file the last will and testament of convicted Death Eaters?"

"Yes, sir," said Harry. "Hermione did some checking, and you come highly recommended. You practice law in both the magical and non magical world, and are aware of issues pertaining to both. And you specialise in wills and estates."

"Yes, yes, and I'm muggleborn as well. All of which seems to make me the least likely candidate for this."

"You might be surprised, sir. It may turn out to be an asset."

If it were anyone other than Harry Potter, Mr. Harris would have turned them out by now. 'Unlikely' seemed to describe much of what he knew of Harry and Hermione's stories. Somehow they always seemed to come out on top. "What exactly are you proposing?"

"We're hoping to meet with them before their convictions, see if any of them would like to make restitution for their actions. They're still able to make or remake a will before then. If they're unable to pay you, I would provide the money."

"Unless of course Harry or I were a beneficiary. That would be a conflict of interest. We were hoping you could write that off if it happened. For now, we would just need your agreement, and a stack of business cards to give them if they were interested."

"You're serious about this."

"Yes, sir."

"And you think they'd be willing to hire me?"

"It would be part of their, um, repentance. They wouldn't contact you if they weren't willing."

"Anything else?"

"Well, I may need some help with the Black estate. It's a mess at the moment."

That got Mr. Harris' attention, even more than the thought of dealing face to face with a bunch of Death Eaters. The Black estate was rumoured to be huge. Writing off fees for a few wills would be no problem.

"And if you could smooth things out with Gringott's, that would be great."

"Gringott's. Is that all? You don't do things by halves, do you Mr. Potter?" Mr. Harris was back to definitely earning his money. On the other hand, there might be a lot of it, for a long time. His life had seemed so simple when he got up this morning.

"You have no idea, sir."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Let me get this straight," said Kingsley. "You want to meet with each and every convicted Death Eater, to offer them a chance to show remorse?"

"Yes, sir." Kingsley's eyebrows went up at the 'sir'.

"You going to push for reduced sentences for those that do?"

"No, sir. They all deserve what they're going to get. It's more of a matter of the state of their souls."

His eyebrows went up further.

"It's what Dumbledore wanted, sir. He believed in redemption. I even encouraged Riddle to try to save his soul—"

"I know, I was there. I couldn't figure out why then, and I still can't."

"Is there anything more important than the state of your soul, sir? Or showing mercy to those that deserve it?"

"That's where we may disagree, and where I disagreed with Dumbledore. Who deserves it."

"I still believe in consequences, sir, which may be where Dumbledore and I are different. As I said, I won't be trying to change their sentencing in any way."

Kingsley stared at them intently for a full minute. "All right. I think it's a fool's errand, but they are entitled visitors, so I can't stop you. I'll assign some Aurors."

Harry and Hermione looked at each other. "Could they remain outside? Some of this may get personal and private," asked Hermione.

Kingsley nodded slowly. "I suppose we can arrange something safe. Who would you like to meet with first?"

"I think the Carrows, sir."

Kingsley shook his head. "I can't see this going well, but if you're sure?" They both nodded.

"All right, we'll give the Carrows a try and see what happens."

"Thank you, sir."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Let me get this straight," said the Auror in charge of the holding cell wing. "The two of you want to meet with the Carrows?"

Harry and Hermione nodded.

"Both at the same time?"

They nodded again.

"Without us in the room?"

They nodded yet again.

The Auror sighed. "If it wasn't the two of you, and if you didn't have the letter from the Minister, I wouldn't even consider it." Harry and Hermione just looked back at her innocently.

She sighed again. "All right. I'll rig up something from the violent prisoner protocols."

"Thank you, ma'am," they both said.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"You're sure you want to do this?" asked the senior Auror.

"Yes, ma'am," said Harry.

"It's Angela, not ma'am. All right then. They'll be restrained in their chairs. There'll be a table between you, and the door'll be behind you. There's a large rune on your side of the table, hit it if you need help. You're sure you don't want us in there with you?"

"We'll be fine, Angela. If things aren't going to go well, it'll be very brief. If it's going well, it'll still only be a little while."

"Right. I'm still going to poke my head in after about ten minutes."

They reached a desk next to a heavy steel door. "I'm sorry, but no wands beyond this point." They handed their wands to the Auror at the desk. "This way."

Angela and her partner led them through the steel door into the Ministry holding cells. The first door on the right was the interrogation room. Cell doors stretched down both sides of the long corridor. It was eerily quiet, probably due to liberal use of silencing charms. Her partner opened the door and proceeded them in.

Alecto and Amycus were chained to chairs on the opposite side of a heavy table, an Auror standing behind each. All the furniture was fixed to the floor, and a large blue rune glowed in the middle of the near edge of the table. One Auror cuffed Amycus on the back of the head. "Remember what we told you." Amycus glowered but said nothing. Harry and Hermione sat on their side of the table and the Aurors filed out.

"The door is silenced, so you'll have to hit the rune or open the slot if you need us," Angela said, pointing to a small sliding panel about at eye level.

"Thank you. We should be fine."

As soon as the door was shut, Alecto was screaming at Hermione, "Filthy mudblood whore, I'll gut you with a spoon and string you up by your innards …" and Amycus started in on Harry, "Halfblood freak! Think you've won, do you? I should've sliced you to pieces when I had the chance…"

Hermione looked calmly over at Harry. "Now would be fine."

Harry took a deep breath, and said quietly, "Silence."

Amycus and Alecto broke off their invectives to laugh loudly at Harry, but seconds later their eyes opened wide. Amycus looked at Harry in astonishment. "The Mark. It burns. How…?" he started.

"Silence," Harry said quietly again. They both fell silent. They stared at Harry in a combination of rage and shock, and struggled against their bonds, but couldn't speak.

Harry looked over at Hermione. "Brilliant, as usual."

Hermione smiled a small smile. "Thanks, Harry. Are you sure you can do this?"

"I really don't like it, but as you said, maybe some good can come of it."

He turned to the Carrows. "Mr. Carrow, Ms. Carrow. We're here to offer you a chance for redemption. No reduction in your sentence, no change in the final outcome, just a chance to unburden yourselves and mend the damage to your souls."

"The first part, I'm sorry to say, you don't have a choice in. As you can see, since I defeated Riddle yet again, this time permanently, I inherited control over the Mark." Harry paused. "Just out of curiosity, what exactly was the oath you swore when you got your Mark?"

Amycus struggled to stay silent, but the pain in his Mark and the compulsion to obey became too much. "On my life, my magic, and my soul, I pledge my eternal obedience to my Lord."

"Oh my," said Hermione.

"What?"

"Well, it implies that you could strip them of their magic or even kill them through the Mark, just by wanting to."

Harry paled as much as Amycus and Alecto did. He struggled to keep on task.

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that." He turned back to Amycus and Alecto, who watched him warily. "So this is my command. Alecto will make a will, leaving everything to Amycus. Amycus will make a will, leaving everything, including Head of House Carrow, to Lee Jordan. Remember that. Lee Jordan. In the event you are sentenced to life in prison rather than death, you will still assign Head of House Carrow to Lee Jordan. Here is the lawyer you will use."

He slid a card for Mr. Harris onto the table. "You will present this as your own idea. If anyone asks you why, you will say it is out of a sense of remorse. You will tell no one about my control over the Mark or that the Mark has any influence over you. You will not attempt to hurt or kill yourself before your sentence is carried out. You will otherwise act as you wish. Do you understand?"

They still glared, but a "yes" was forced from each of them.

"You will ask for Mr. Harris as soon as we leave." Harry sighed.

"The second part of your redemption is completely voluntary. If you wish to apologise to me, or Hermione, or anyone else you harmed, just ask and you will be given the opportunity."

From the looks on their faces, that was the last thing they would ever do. Harry hoped a trip through the veil or a kiss from a dementor would be their last act.

"I miss anything?" Harry asked Hermione.

"No, I think that covers it. Shall we?"

They stood and stopped before the door. Harry released the Carrows from their silence just as Hermione slid open the slot. The door swung open rapidly, a wand appearing at each edge. Angela raised her eyebrows at the calm Harry and Hermione before her and the strangely quiet Carrows still seated at the table.

"You two all right, then?"

"Just fine, thanks," said Harry. "The Carrows have a request for you."

Angela poked her head into the room.

"We need a lawyer," Amycus grumbled, nodding at the card on the table.

Angela turned to stare at Harry and Hermione. Harry just shrugged. "I think they're still entitled to one."

"Right, then. Well. Anything else we can do for you?"

"Actually yes," said Hermione. "Since this went so well, we'd like to meet with these people today if we could," she said, handing her a small roll of parchment.

Angela's eyebrows threatened to disappear into her hairline as she unrolled it and read the names. "You're sure about this?"

"Absolutely."

It took until late afternoon the next day, but they met with all the surviving Death Eaters, from Avery to Yaxley. They anticipated a dozen Wizengamot seats outright and nearly twenty Heads of House, longstanding purebloods all, to change hands in the coming weeks. Mr. Harris was going to be very busy.

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The next day they returned to Lucius' trial, just in time to hear about the end of the basilisk. Harry, and many others, had already given testimony about it all; Lucius confirmed and explained it all thanks to the veritaserum. Harry was pleased the bit about freeing Dobby and Lucius getting knocked on his arse was included, it generated smirks and laughs throughout the room.

After the day's session, the Hogwarts' contingent met again. Harry and Hermione briefly outlined their accomplishments to date.

Ron spoke up. "They _all_ agreed?"

"Well, I did defeat Riddle several times. They seemed to feel obligated or something," Harry fudged.

Ron started laughing, and couldn't seem to stop. "That's brilliant," he said between laughs. "Pureblood snobs taking orders from a halfblood and a muggleborn. Perfect." Several others saw the same irony and humour in the situation, and joined him. Finally Hermione cleared her throat.

"Heh hem." This generated a few laughs of its own. "Right, whatever. There's only two more verdicts to go, and Lucius' trial should be over in a week or two. In the meantime, Andromeda Tonks has agreed to tutor our volunteers for their new positions. Lessons will be each evening from five to six. Harry and I will take a few of you to her apparation point tonight if you want." She handed out strips of parchment. "These are books you might find helpful." This caused a few more laughs.

The list included _The Pureblood Directory_ , _Extraordinary Trials in History_ , _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century_ , _Laws of Conduct When Dealing With Muggles_ , _Legislative Guide to the Proper Use of Magic_ , _Magical Moral Perspective_ , _Modern Magical History_ , _Muggle 'Law & Order' - Complete Guide_, _Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy_ , and _A Young Witch's and Wizard's Guide to Proper Behaviour._ (3)

"It's mostly tripe, of course, but they'll let you know what we're up against." No one had heard Hermione criticise a book before, and looked over the lists with interest. "If nothing else, you should get the first and last ones the list. They'll tell you who we're dealing with and why they act the way they do. Get a few of the rest and share them around."

"You're really serious about this, aren't you?" asked Katie.

Harry put his hand on Hermione's arm as she was about to answer, and looked at Katie until she shifted uncomfortably. "The 'grown ups' before us either allowed Riddle nearly take over the country or actively supported him. If they'd won, we'd be dead, or for some of you girls, worse." Many faces paled as they understood what he meant.

"We're all currently 'heroes.' If there's a backlash or recurrence, we'll be the blood traitors, enemies, and magic stealers all over again. Believe me, I know how fickle things can be." Some of the group had the grace to blush at that.

Harry summarised his and Hermione's concerns. "Riddle was a halfblood raised in a 'muggle' orphanage. If you're a pureblood in power, how easy is going to be to blame his lack of 'proper upbringing' as the 'true cause' of all the problems, and return things to exactly the way they were that allowed Riddle to come to power in the first place? I'm not going to spend the next hundred years or so in a country like that. Either we change it, or I'm leaving."

Many in the group looked shocked at that, some looked thoughtful, a few were nodding, having already come to the same conclusions. The volunteers had a new look of determination on their faces as they asked to be apparated to the Tonks' home.

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Lucius' trial finally came to an end on the following Thursday. In all he was convicted of over three hundred counts of bribery, corruption, conspiracy, Unforgiveables, assault, and murder. There was a sense of relief that it was finally over, the Wizengamot members were nearly numb after the onslaught of crimes they had heard over the past several weeks. The amount of new evidence against those already convicted was immense, and there was debate on whether some needed to be retried, or if it should just be included at the sentencing. Needing a break, they had called a recess for Friday, postponing Draco's trial until the following Monday. They filed out quietly, looking forward to a few days off.

Harry and Hermione went down to the main floor of the courtroom and waited until Kingsley had gathered his parchment and finished talking with various exiting Wizengamot and Ministry members.

"You two again?"

"We need to talk," said Hermione.

Kingsley frowned. "This going to be like the last time? Every person you talked to has filed a new will. Mr. Harris has never been in the Ministry so much before, now he's practically an employee of the Hall of Records. I dread to find out what's going to happen when those wills are executed."

"Nothing bad, we promise. But our conversation needs to be private."

"Humph." He led the way to his office.

After getting them seated with a cup of tea, he tapped his wand to the crystal on his desk that sealed the door and prevented eavesdropping. "All right, I'm listening."

Harry let Hermione do the talking. "We'd like to talk with Mr Malfoy."

"That follows, I suppose—"

"And we'll need you, Mr. Mitchell, Mr. Parker, and a few Aurors that you're sure are absolutely, one-hundred-percent, trustworthy in with us for the last part of the conversation."

Kingsley frowned and sat back in his chair. "Is this going to effect the rather lengthy trial we just finally finished?" he asked after a minute.

Harry and Hermione looked at each other. "Unlikely," Hermione said. "We'll certainly ask his advocate and the prosecutor for a formal agreement, but I'm pretty sure everything will stand."

"And I'm supposed to take the word of a seventeen year old witch on that?"

Harry tensed. "She—" he started loudly.

Hermione put a hand on his arm. "I suppose we could talk with the press instead. But then his verdict likely would come into question and you might have to do it all over again."

Kingsley looked at them incredulously. "Are you trying to blackmail the Minister of Magic?"

"Oh, no sir. Merely postulating on the likely outcomes of events given the rules of our legal system."

Kingsley started to laugh, softly at first, then louder, his deep voice echoing off the office walls. Finally he was able to talk again. "Oh, I feel better. The last few months have been brutal. Now then, why don't you tell me what you're up to, so there's no nasty surprises when we have our little 'chat' with Mr. Malfoy."

"Well, sir," she began, and laid out her concerns regarding the Malfoys' possible plans to an increasingly concerned Kingsley. They left out any mention of the Mark.

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The next morning, Harry and Hermione were led into a different, larger, interview room. The setup was the same, but there were more chairs on their side of the table. Lucius sat calmly on the other side. He remained silent until the door closed.

"So, Mr. Potter. Come to gloat?"

"No. _We_ have come to offer you the same opportunity we gave all the rest of the Death Eaters."

Lucius briefly glanced at Hermione, his gaze flicking down her body before returning to Harry, otherwise ignoring her completely. Harry was offended by this far more than any cursing by any of the other Death Eaters. Hermione put her hand on his arm. Harry took a deep breath. They had talked about this, and he worked to calm himself. Lucius just sniffed and if possible seemed to look down his nose at them even further.

"Near the end, Dumbledore talked with me about souls, and advised me to offer Riddle the chance to repair his, to feel remorse for his actions. We've offered the same to all of his servants, and now we're offering the same to you. If you want to apologise to me or Hermione, or anyone else, now would be the time."

Lucius' upper lip crinkled fractionally. "My only regret that I would share with you is that I didn't kill you when I had the chance. You are a waste of magic, understanding nothing of what it means to be a wizard. Otherwise, I have nothing further to say to anyone."

"Funny, that—" said Hermione.

"Keep her silent, Potter. She should not speak in the presence of her betters. You are barely worth talking to as it is."

Hermione's hand on his arm was the only thing keeping him from jumping up on the table and kicking Lucius' teeth down his throat. That and what was to come next.

"Well. That was part one. Part two is a history lesson. Do you remember the prophecy, Lucius? Oh, that's right, you failed to get it and got arrested while the rest of us escaped. Well, the words aren't really important, but the prophecy bound Riddle and my lives together until one of us finally killed the other. Then he nearly gets offed by casting a curse at me, and I end up with a chunk of his soul in my forehead. Then he takes my blood and uses it to make a body for himself. Then he kills me personally, and I get to deliver the chunk of his soul in my head to the afterlife."

Lucius was displaying great disinterest in anything Harry was saying until his mention of the afterlife, when his eyes widened slightly.

"Yes, Lucius, there is an afterlife. I've been there, and old Tommy using my blood, containing the protection my mother, my _muggleborn_ mother, provided, saved me yet again and allowed me to come back. I'm quite sure your experience in the afterlife is going to be nothing like mine. But on the bright side, you'll be back serving your master soon, and I'm sure he'll spend _eons_ expressing his displeasure with your inadequacies."

Lucius was reddening slightly, and his lips thinned into a straight line, but other than that he still didn't react.

"Where were we? Oh yes. Well, as Hermione rightly pointed out, it's very unlikely that there have ever been two wizards more closely bound than Riddle and I. And in the end I defeated him, his body, his magic, and his soul not just once but several times. This got her thinking, magic and prophecy have this funny thing for symmetry. So she wondered, what happens to the Mark? Were we close enough, bound enough by sharing souls and blood and prophecy, that control of the Mark falls to me?"

This finally spurred Lucius to break his silence. "Preposterous! You're not worthy to receive a Mark, much less control it. You are weak, ignorant, inferior in all ways—"

"Silence."

"How dare you speak to—" Lucius' eyes widened in disbelief as first the Mark on his arm started to burn and then he was compelled to be silent.

"I did say it was a history lesson, Lucius. You didn't think we would test this out on you, did you? We've met with every known Death Eater and been through the same thing with them. The whole process has been distasteful to say the least, but I must admit to looking forward to this, just a little."

"Bark like a dog."

Lucius turned red, with hate-filled eyes, as he was forced to obey.

"Now sound like a cat."

"Now like a pig."

"Now sing 'I'm a Little Teapot'."

Surprisingly, Lucius knew the words, and even more surprisingly, had a lovely singing voice.

"Harry, that's enough," said Hermione quietly, but not until after Lucius had made it through the first verse and looked fit to explode.

"You may be silent." Lucius stopped singing but the hateful glare continued.

"Right, to business. My command to you, that you must obey as you pledged everything you are to the one in control of the Mark, is that you will make a new will. Here is the lawyer you will use." Harry placed the card on the table. "You will disinherit your wife and son, divorce Narcissa and cast Draco out of the Malfoy family. You will leave everything that you have, including your estate, your vaults, anything hidden away wherever it might be which you will carefully list out, and most especially Head of House Malfoy, to Dennis Creevy."

Draco had obviously mentioned the Creevys in his letters home, enough anyway for Lucius to recognise Dennis as the 'mugglest' of all possible recipients of the Malfoy wealth and power. Harry didn't think it was possible, but Lucius turned a few shades darker of red.

"Calm yourself, Lucius," Harry said, and remarkably he did. "Huh. Excellent. Now for the important bits. You will present this as your own idea. If anyone asks you why, you will say it is out of a sense of remorse. You will tell no one about my control over the Mark or that the Mark has any influence over you, or anything that would even suggest that I or Hermione had anything to do with this other than a pleasant but compelling conversation. You will not mention anything about the afterlife other than perhaps your fear of where you might go. You will not attempt to hurt or kill yourself before your sentence is carried out, and you will remain calm until then. You will otherwise act as you wish. Do you understand?"

A very reluctant 'yes' was drug from Lucius.

"You will make no further efforts to fight my commands. Do you understand?"

"Yes," came again, this time completely naturally. Lucius' colour was nearly back to normal.

"Excellent. Now, seeing as how you're the last Death Eater, you get a part three. It's really the reason we decided to do all this to begin with. We took Draco's name, and his money. Now we're going to take his freedom. Hermione also figured out your plan to make sure he was found innocent. We're going to put paid to that too."

Despite Harry's command that he remain calm, Lucius turned pale as Harry revealed that they knew his secret.

"Now then. More instructions. You will continue to remain calm. You will treat Hermione with respect. You will cooperate with those about to enter this room, and answer all questions posed to you by me, Hermione, or the Minister, and confess fully your bribery of Mr. Mitchell, the Wizengamot members, anyone else you may have bribed, and Mr. Parkers' role in all of it. Do you understand?"

"Yes." They could hear his defeat even through his command-induced calm.

"Shall we?" Harry asked.

"I think we're ready." Hermione went to the door and opened the slot. "Come in, please."

Kingsley, Mitchell, Parker, and a few Aurors filed into the room. Parker took the seat next to Lucius, Mitchell and Kingsley flanked Harry and Hermione. The Aurors stood unobtrusively against the walls around the room.

Hermione welcomed them in. "Thank you for coming, Minister, Mr. Parker, Mr. Mitchell. We've been having a conversation with Mr. Malfoy, and like the rest he would like to do a couple of things. He wishes to consult with Mr. Harris about his estate. He also wishes to try to make up for his actions by adding some further confessions."

"What's this?" asked Mr. Parker sharply. "The trial is over. It's a little late to be bringing more charges. And I would handle anything regarding his estate."

"No more charges," said Hermione. "No more trials. I suppose the first thing to do is to grant Mr. Malfoy immunity for whatever he is about to confess, but no leniency in sentencing either. This is about repentance and the state of Mr. Malfoy's soul, not criminal prosecution."

"Mr. Parker, Mr. Mitchell, can we agree that whatever Mr. Malfoy voluntarily confesses in this limited setting will be immune from prosecution?" asked Kingsley. "I agree that the trial is over, and I really can't see whatever he confesses here altering his sentence substantially. If this is about repentance, I would be interested in allowing Mr. Malfoy the opportunity."

Mr. Parker and Mr. Mitchell looked at each other warily, looking for pitfalls and loopholes, and Mr. Parker had a rather lengthy whispered conversation with Lucius. He wasn't satisfied as Lucius wouldn't provide any specifics, but eventually conceded that he couldn't stop him. Finally they called for parchment and a quill, and a deal was hammered out. Mr. Parker, Mr. Mitchell, and Mr. Malfoy all signed, and Kingsley finally addressed Lucius.

"All right Mr. Malfoy, what did you want to tell us?"

Lucius just looked to Harry and Hermione, and Hermione asked the questions.

"Are you aware of any Death Eaters not currently dead or in Ministry custody?"

"No."

"Are you aware of any crimes committed by Cornelius Fudge that he has not been charged with?"

"No."

Both Mr. Parker and Mr. Mitchell seemed to be losing their patience with the negative answers, but then Hermione sprung the trap.

"Of all the people you have bribed, who is in this room?"

Several things happened at once. Mr. Parker and Mr. Mitchell both yelled "WHAT?" and leapt to their feet, reaching for wands that fortunately weren't there. An Auror grabbed each by the shoulder from behind and pressed a wand to their neck, quickly causing them to become very, very still. And Mr. Malfoy finished his quiet reply of "Mr. Mitchell."

Kingsley looked up at his Aurors. "Well done." He turned back to Mr. Malfoy. "I'm sorry Mr. Malfoy, you were rudely interrupted. Could you repeat that?"

"Mr. Mitchell."

"I see. Could you tell me what you bribed him for?"

"He was to avoid certain questions during my trial. He was to keep Narcissa from serving time in prison. The same for Draco."

"I see—"

"This is ridiculous," said Mr. Mitchell. "You can't believe any of this, he's just getting back at me for destroying him in his trial. I want him screened for potions and the Imperious, and I want these two questioned under—"

Kingsley glanced at his Auror. "Audrey?" There was a brief red glow and Mr. Mitchell dropped bonelessly to the floor. Everyone else winced. A stunner from point blank range to the neck was going to cause a major headache.

Kingsley looked up to Mr. Parker. "Are we going to have problems with you?"

Mr. Parker shook his head quickly, suddenly remembering that Kingsley was an Auror himself for years before becoming Minister.

"Excellent." He turned back to Mr. Malfoy. "Are you aware of any crimes committed by or bribes taken by Assistant Prosecutor Hughes?"

"No."

Kingsley turned to the Auror by the door. "Please fetch Mr. Hughes. Tell him to drop whatever else he's doing, and escort him here with a few rolls of parchment and a dictaquill. Tell him nothing else. You say anything but 'excuse me' to anyone else at all and your psychological fitness eval will start this morning and last twenty years. Are we clear?"

"Sir." The Auror braced briefly to attention before opening the door and dashing off.

"Harry, Hermione, thank you. I didn't believe you, I didn't want to believe you, but you were right."

He turned again to Mr. Malfoy. "And Mr. Parker is in on it too?"

"Yes. He delivered the money."

Kingsley pondered Mr. Parker. "Well, we have the deal in writing. Mr. Malfoy is free to answer or not answer anything we ask, has immunity from anything he does confess to, and it was apparently his idea anyway. So I'm fairly certain his rights won't be violated in any fashion. I'm really not interested in prosecuting Mr. Malfoy any further, and leniency is off the table as well. So I'm not sure we really need Mr. Parker here at all. Would you care to confess now, Mr. Parker?"

Surprisingly, Mr. Parker just slowly slid to the floor, whimpering. Corruption involving a capital case, especially a multiple capital case, could see him in prison for decades. If any conspiracy charges stuck he could share Lucius' fate.

"Find them cells nearby, search them thoroughly. Strip them down, leave a prison uniform. Speak to no one. Return here immediately."

An unconscious Mr. Mitchell and a still limp Mr. Parker were hauled out by the arms by two Aurors each just as Mr. Hughes was escorted in, eyes wide in shock.

"Minister, what's going on?"

"Mr. Hughes, welcome. It appears you're going to be busy today, and for the next several weeks. Mr. Malfoy would like to confess to further crimes, and it appears they involve Mr. Parker, Mr. Mitchell, and an as yet unknown number of Wizengamot members. Is there any reason for me to worry that you will need the same treatment as Mr. Mitchell?"

Mr. Hughes gulped. "No, sir." He recovered from his surprise. "Of course not, sir."

"Have a seat."

Harry took Hermione's hand. "Mr. Malfoy, I think you should cooperate fully with Mr. Hughes. Tell him everything." It may have been his imagination, but Harry thought behind the command-induced pleasant facade, he could see deep in Lucius' eyes rage and hate and despair. Or maybe not. He sat back, holding Hermione's hand, while yet again Lucius Malfoy began reciting a list of his crimes.

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Several hours later, Harry and Hermione sat once more with Kingsley in his office, sipping tea. He studied them intently, eventually breaking the silence.

"Do I really want to know what's going on?"

"Sir?" asked Hermione.

"Please. There's no way in hell every single Death Eater, especially Lucius Malfoy, is going to roll over and play nice just because the two of you have a brief chat with them."

Harry smiled. "Oh, I don't know. I find Hermione very persuasive."

"Perhaps they find Harry's claim of conquest over Riddle compelling," added Hermione. Harry nearly choked on his tea at that. "Regardless, they are still entitled to due process of law and can bequeath their estates as they wish. Whatever they arrange with Mr. Harris is between them and him."

Kingsley just stared at them. Harry sighed. "No, sir. You don't want to know what's going on."

Kingsley stared at them some more. The corners of his mouth twitched. "Perhaps you're right. Anyone else going to be able to tell me what you did?"

"No, sir."

"All right then." Kingsley sipped his tea. "Off the record, whatever it is, I approve."

"Thank you, sir."

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Angela led them to the interrogation room for their last meeting. "Same set up as before."

"He knows?"

"Yes. Minister Shacklebolt was in with Prosecutor Hughes. They reviewed all the documents Lucius signed. He wasn't too happy."

"Thanks, Angela. We'll call you in if he's willing to sign." Nothing magical or potentially magical, even just parchment or quills, was allowed in the room without official presence.

Angela opened the door and let them in. As they took their seats, Angela and Draco's guard left. As soon as the door clanked shut, Draco spoke.

"Couldn't be satisfied with ruining my life, scarhead? Had to bring the mudblood whore to gloat? I would've thought that beneath you."

"Why do they all ask that, and why do they all call you that?" Harry asked Hermione, ignoring Draco.

"I'm not sure. Perhaps limited intelligence from excessive inbreeding and limited social exposure from being brainwashed from an early age by purebloods afraid of the wider world. He'd be gloating in this situation, so he can't imagine anyone doing anything else."

"Huh. Maybe. Anyway Draco, as far as ruining your life, personally I would blame your parents and how they raised you. You were pretty much doomed from the start. Your personal choices along the way certainly didn't help. At least you were such an incompetent Death Eater the death penalty is not being considered for you."

"Nice, scarhead. Any other insults you want to pile one?"

"No, but I will ask a favour."

"You're joking, right? A favour? Assuming there was actually something I could do for you, there's no way in hell I would. Even if it benefitted me, I wouldn't just to annoy you."

"It's a small thing, Draco. While I inherited the Black Estate, Head of House was not formally assigned. You, me, and Edward Lupin all have different claims to it, so I'm here to get it sorted. Given that both your family and the Death Eaters actively conspired against and attacked the last remaining members and or Heir of the Black family, namely me, Sirius and his brother Regulus, believe me when I tell you that as both a Malfoy, well an ex-Malfoy, and a Death Eater there's no way in hell you will get it, even if you somehow found the money to hire an advocate to go after it. Rather than wait the couple weeks for the Wizengamot to rule in our favour over this as part of your sentencing, you should just relinquish any claim today."

"Like I said, Potter, I'm not going to do it just to annoy you. If it makes you wait, then you get to wait." Draco began shifting uncomfortably in his chair.

"Draco, you're so pathetic. You think we're so far beneath you, but then you spend your whole life around making sure we know that. If we're that inferior, forget about us and focus on whatever it is that purebloods do."

Draco looked even more uncomfortable, twisting his left arm back and forth in the chains.

"Fine, if it will get you out of my life, I'll do it. You're right, you're not worth my time."

Hermione hopped up out of her chair and opened the slot in the door. "He'll sign."

The door opened and Angela and the guard came in. The guard stood behind Draco with wand tip to his neck. Angela put the parchment and quill on the table, then tapped the chains holding his right arm. They slithered down under the chair. Draco read the brief statement before signing his name.

As Angela tapped the arm of the chair and the chains climbed up to bind Draco again, he said, "There, happy? You going to get out of my life now?"

Harry and Hermione stood to leave. "Draco, if we never see you again, it'll be too soon."

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They stopped in the hallway well back from the doors to the Hall of Records. It was empty other than for them. Harry leaned back up against the wall and closed his eyes. Hermione leaned into him and they wrapped their arms around each other. "Think we did it?"

"Hard to know, Harry. He could have just been persuaded. He's had a bunch of nasty shocks today, he really could have recognised the futility of his situation and just wanted us to go away, hopefully for good."

"But?"

"But, he was twisting his left arm at the end, like his Mark was hurting him."

"So?"

"I would have to guess yes, Harry. Either way, we got what we need. It's not like we're going to test it out."

"Hell no. I just worry that one of the others is going to find a way to tell, or Draco will figure it out."

"I'm pretty sure the others are all going through the Veil in the next couple of weeks. The remaining Wizengamot members are going to need to be seen as very hard on crime or they'll lose all credibility. So they shouldn't be a problem. If you actually did influence Draco, the other command you gave him was to forget about us. Hopefully that'll keep him from thinking about why he changed his mind and helped us so easily."

"I hope so."

"Me, too. That and he's really not that bright."

"Heh." Harry just rested, enjoying the feel of Hermione next to him. "Was it enough?"

"I think so. We won't have an actual majority, but we'll have both a large block of votes and money, and there's enough support from people like Ms. Longbottom that things are likely to change."

Harry was quiet for a moment. "Was it right?"

Hermione looked up at him. "Are you worried about that?"

"Yeah, I am. They didn't have a choice, we, I made them. It's too much like the whole 'greater good' thing."

She tightened her hug. "One of the things I love about you Harry is your moral compass. You always try to do the right thing, even if it's not just for you. My original idea had you getting all the power and money and making things right for everyone else. You could have taken all that, blackmailed the Wizengamot, and made yourself King if you wanted. Instead you gave it all away so people could make things better for themselves. It won't be perfect, but it will be better, fairer. I find that I don't have to justify any of this."

"Humph. Thanks Hermione."

"Of course. It does help that they'll all likely be dead in a couple of weeks. Removes any temptation."

"Except for Draco. But we already know he makes a terrible minion."

"Heh. True."

"So can we go to Australia, then?"

"I think so. And it might be best if we were out of the country for a while. People might not connect us to all the upheaval then."

"Fat chance of that."

"Fine. I just want to sit on a beach with you, then."

He kissed the top of her head. "That's a better reason. Shall we?"

"Absolutely. Mr. Heatherington said he would be in today. We should help him with his work."

They went through the doors to deliver the parchments from Draco relinquishing any claim to Head of House Black, Andromeda relinquishing Head of House Black on behalf of Teddy, and several from Harry. One asked to be made Head of House, the rest to take effect if that happened; reinstating Andromeda to the family to satisfy any family rules, Teddy declared Heir to House Black, and Narcissa and Draco being cast from the Black family, officially.

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Harry and Hermione took their luggage from the cabbie and gave him a nice tip. They headed in towards the Qantas desk to check in. Joining the queue for international flights, they checked to make sure they had all their documents. Something caught Hermione's eye, then she paled. She tugged Harry's sleeve. "Harry."

Harry looked up, and seeing Hermione's face, immediately scanned the area. His eyes widened. Seated on a bench near the door they had come in was a tall blond witch in the blue robes of the Unspeakables looking at them over the top of her paper. She smiled and waved them over.

They stepped out of queue and wheeled their suitcases over. "How…?" asked Hermione.

The Unspeakable smiled again. "Nice to see you again, Ms. Granger. Have a seat."

They sat. The noise of the airport was cut off.

"Disillusionment charm on the way in. Muggle repelling charm and notice-me-not field. Localised silencing charm. Adjust the cameras to just miss these seats." Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Yes, we know all about security cameras and the like. Not everyone at the Ministry is totally clueless about the world."

Hermione laughed. Harry was still worried. "What do you want?" he asked.

"No worries, Mr. Potter. We want several things. The first is to congratulate the two of you on your efforts. Nicely done indeed. There was so much potential for abuse of power, or to just abandon us to decades of the same stagnation, yet you threaded the needle perfectly. We're confident you tipped the scales just enough, and Magical Britain will be brought, kicking and screaming perhaps, into the modern age. Most importantly, on its own, not under the control of just one person." Harry visibly relaxed. "Once the furore dies down of course."

Harry winced. Seventeen more Wizengamot members were arrested and awaiting trial. Every hearing they sat in on had to be examined, and the member questioned under veritaserum about their vote, to see if it had to be redone. Every trial had to be revoted on, and Narcissa was being retried. Harry and Hermione were worried that it all might bring down Kingsley's government, but he came out with the news right away and framed it as continuing the fight on corruption, and now he was more popular than ever.

The wills would start to be processed soon. Mr. Harris said they were all as ironclad as possible, but 'muggleborns' had not sat on the Wizengamot before, and it was indeed going to cause a furore. It seemed like a good time to get out of the country.

"The second is to congratulate Hermione on her brilliant deductions and reasoning. Most magicals have no logic skills whatsoever, and most non-magicals have no intuitive grasp of magic. You, my dear, have both in spades."

Hermione blushed and mumbled a soft "Thank you." Harry just smiled and bumped his shoulder into hers.

"Which brings me to my next issue. Should you decide to return from Australia, and we hope that you will, we wish to have Miss Granger join us in our department. Someone with her skill set would be wasted anywhere else. Though I'm sure the Minister was hoping that someday you would be his Prosecutor."

"I… thank you… but I haven't…" Hermione stammered.

Harry nudged her again. "Told you. Ron, too."

The Unspeakable smiled again. A small disk appeared in her right hand and she turned it over and over with her fingers a few times before flipping it up into the air. Hermione caught it. She turned it over and gasped. It was a S.P.E.W. badge. "How…?"

"There's a few circulating around. Your cover, if you wanted, could be head of Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. No one has ever thoroughly researched elf magic, and we're greatly interested in it. And that department is at the top of the list of needing modernisation. Otherwise you could work in our department on just the magic itself."

Hermione stared at the badge for a moment, before looking up at the Unspeakable. "That's very tempting. But then it would be, wouldn't it?"

The Unspeakable laughed. "Of course it would. We find it best if we work on what interests us. Self motivation is hard to beat. Even if you just wanted to head the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures without working for us, it would still be a great and needed thing. But there's support and knowledge in our department that could assist you in what _you_ wanted to do. Take some time. Find your parents, enjoy Australia, learn to surf, get a tan. But come find me if and when you come back. No matter what you want to do, I can help."

"Thank you."

"No, thank you. And the Minister wanted you to have this." She handed Hermione a small strip of parchment.

Hermione opened it and gasped.

"What?" asked Harry.

She showed him the parchment. It was the street address for a Mr. and Mrs. Wendell Wilkins, in Adelaide.

"Thank you so much."

"It's the least we could do, Ms. Granger. And lastly, for you Mr. Potter." He tensed again.

"I wish to convey the message that the Unspeakables officially find you completely and totally uninteresting. Everyone with the Mark but Draco is gone, the horcruxes are gone, Riddle is gone. We would of course love to talk with you in detail about your experiences, but since many happened when you were an infant, or are totally unreproducible and unverifiable, you are now simply ordinary and boring. We hope you enjoy your normalcy."

Harry grinned, then laughed. "Thanks. I'll certainly try. I think that's the nicest thing anyone at the Ministry has ever said to me."

"We will of course deny ever having said so, or even having met with you. But you're welcome. Now then, we all need to be off. Enjoy your flight." With that, she disillusioned herself. The sounds of the busy airport returned.

Harry and Hermione looked at each other, then got back into the queue to check in. After a few minutes of silence, Harry asked, "Think she knows?"

"I would assume so. She mentioned all the important bits. But she also said you're no longer interesting to them, and that things would be unverifiable, and they would deny ever meeting with you, so I think they're giving us a pass. If we come back, I'm sure we'll have that conversation, purely hypothetically of course, about what the Mark used to be."

"What do you think?"

"About what?"

"All that she said."

"Well, for now the important parts are 'enjoy your flight,' 'take some time,' 'find your parents,' and 'get a tan.' The rest can wait until later."

Harry gently pulled her in for a kiss. "Brilliant as always."

She kissed him back. "Someone has to make up for you being 'ordinary and boring.'"

Harry laughed. "Be my guest."

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1-Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

2-Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

3-Harry Potter wiki site, 'books' page. Except the last one, I made that up.

A/N: I was trying to make the control over the Mark a surprise to the reader as well, but it became an obvious set of cliffhangers and annoying. This way we get to enjoy knowing and anticipating Lucius' downfall, so it's still good.

What little canon there is on the origin of the horcrux attributes it to Herpo the Foul (Harry Potter wiki) but most of fanon puts it in Egypt, so a made the Mark come from there too, seemed to work.

I have no association with Qantas, other than being a satisfied customer.

I don't plan on any more to this story. If I can think I can improve on Harry and Hermione coming together, I might edit it a bit, but otherwise I'm pretty happy with it. Now back to my other two stories. Slow going. n


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